Normal
by Avidia
Summary: Harry returns to the Dursleys after 4th year to find things are not normal on Privet Drive. Contains child abuse. PG13 just to be safe. Ch.9 is Author Notes
1. Default Chapter

A/N: This is my first chapter fic. So proud, so proud. I hope it's ok, I really don't know where it's  
going, but I promise I'll finish it if it gets good reviews (a.k.a not you suck you suck you suck)  
Reviews like that don't help anyone. I really don't care if you want to give me a bad review, since  
this is my first real fic., and I'm just learning and all that, but please tell me how I can improve it,  
not just that it needs improvement. Thanks bunches. Everyone who reviews gets . . . the  
satisfaction of knowing they made me happy. That's better than money any day . . . I hope the  
formatting doesn't get too messed up. I always type it out so nice and neat, line everything up etc...  
but when I post it, it gets all discombobulated. I hate it when that happens.   
  
Now that my essay is over, I guess I have to tell you that, yes, I am J.K. Rowling. I found  
fanfiction.net and decided not to finish the Harry Potter series and write fanfics instead. Why do  
you think Book 5 is so late? We are trying to find a decent way to break it to the public that it  
won't be finished. Oh, look! That pig that just flew past my window had the cutest little tail . . .  
Seriously, Harry Potter and everything to do with it belong to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury (SP?)  
Publishing, Scholastic Inc., the Warner Bros. and whoever else got their hand in the bag.   
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Normal  
Chapter One  
  
  
  
  
The ride home from Platform nine and three fourths was anything if not what Harry  
expected. He sat alone in the back seat, save for Hedwig, who, sensing the tense atmosphere,  
remained silent, occasionally looking up at him curiously from her cage. He heard his trunk  
shifting in the back as the car went around some sharp turns, and he heard the tires rolling over  
cracks in the pavement, but he didn't hear the only thing he expected. Uncle Vernon.  
  
Harry Potter had just completed his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and  
Wizardry, and one of the worst times in his life. The Triwizard Tournament. He thought back to  
when he actually wanted to sneak his name into the goblet. He had wanted nothing more than to  
be chosen as a champion. Now, he would give anything to have not seen his name out of the  
goblet. Sure, the fantasy of showing his talents in front of the entire school was appealing, but  
that's when it was *just* a fantasy. In reality it was dangerous and nerve-racking. He was sure he  
had gained ten years on his life in the past year. On top of the tournament, he had to deal with  
Voldemort's return and half the wizarding community thinking he was insane, thanks to Rita  
Skeeter.  
  
He was brought out of his reverie by a car horn from somewhere in front of them. He was so  
lost in thought that the sudden noise made him jump, and accidently push Hedwig's cage off the  
seat. She gave a great indignant screech. Harry cringed, prepared to hear Uncle Vernon telling him  
off,but all he got was a squinty-eyed look through the rearview mirror before his uncle continued  
driving down the street.   
  
That was odd. Normally he would have gotten such a telling off that he would remember it  
far into next week, even for something so trivial. But Vernon never said a word, never threatened  
him, or ground him to the cupboard or anything. That was what worried Harry. A threat of a  
sound thrashing would be okay, because he knew it was just a threat. It was perfectly normal  
behavior for the perfectly normal Dursley. But this . . . this troubled him. A great deal.  
  
Sooner than he expected, they came upon Magnolia Crescent. One left turn . . . and  
there was Privet Drive. Number four looked as it always did; completely indistinguishable from the  
other houses on the drive. Perfectly normal, thought Harry bitterly. He laughed to himself, thinking  
what would happen if he painted the front door some radical color, maybe . . . light blue, or  
off-white. Voldemort would never find his ashes.  
  
They pulled in the driveway. Vernon, as usual, got out of the car and strolled up to  
the front door, entered, and slammed it behind him, leaving his nephew to carry Hedwig and his  
heavy trunk to his room, by himself.  
  
It was quite a trick for Harry to lift, let alone move the trunk without a cart, like they  
did at the train station. He was a small person, even he had to admit, but had lost even more  
weight during the last year, spending more that half the time either too nervous or too upset to eat.  
This was one of the times that he really wished he could live with Sirius, or the Weasleys, or have  
anyone old enough to do magic living there. Even if they wouldn't help, he could quickly do a  
levitating charm, and the ministry would never know. They would assume it was the older wizard.  
That made him think of how many times the Weasley twins had probably abused this privilege.  
  
He pulled the trunk out of the back, and started to pull it towards the front door ,  
when he heard a loud screech from the back seat.  
  
"Hedwig," Screech. "Just let me take my trunk up, okay?" Screech. "I'll just be a  
minute. I'll get you right when I'm done." Screech. Uncle Vernon was probably on his way out to  
yell at him for attracting the neighbor's attention. Screech. He loved Hedwig, but she sure knew  
how to get him in trouble. Screech. "Fine, fine. I'll take you up first." He pulled his trunk to the  
front of the car, so it wasn't in view of anyone who might be walking by, and grabbed Hedwig's  
cage from the seat. "Are you happy, now?" She gave a soft hoot and tried to nip his fingers. "I'll  
take that as a yes."  
  
He entered the house and took the stairs two at a time. When he entered his room, he  
could do nothing but gasp in astonishment. It had always been cluttered with Dudley's old toys,  
but now it looked like the back room of a used toy store. When he moved in there, they hadn't  
taken anything out, but, they hadn't moved anything in either. It looked as though the Dursleys had  
put the missing four years of toys into the room, as if it was once again a spare. He stepped over a  
tub of melted legos (he didn't want to think of how that had possibly happened) and noticed that  
his little bed was gone.  
  
Great. Just great. They probably moved the mattress back to the cupboard and expect me  
to sleep there. No wonder, after what happened after the Weasley's visit last year and the little four  
foot tongue incident. He almost couldn't blame them. Almost. He really didn't think he deserved  
to be back in the cupboard. He didn't tell Fred and George to bait Dudley, and he certainly didn't  
force Dudley to eat the candy. Even though he wasn't very large, he *had* grown since he was  
eleven and probably wouldn't fit in the tiny space, anyway.  
  
He cleared the desk off of several Barbie (???) coloring books, and set Hedwig down. "I'll  
be right back." He went down the stairs to find Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia in the kitchen,  
Petunia fussing over a pot of tea and Vernon reading the newspaper. Dudley was nowhere to be  
seen. "Hello, Aunt Petunia." No answer. She didn't even turn around.   
  
"Uncle Vernon, I was just wondering . . . um. . . where my bed is?" Vernon turned a page  
of the paper, and continued reading. Harry went on. "Because if you expect me to sleep in the  
cupboard . . ."  
  
"Oh look, Petunia. Mr. Mason's daughter got married. Says so right here on the society  
page."  
  
"Why didn't we know about it?"  
  
"I'm sure our invitations just got lost in the mail."  
  
"Erm, because if I had to sleep in there, my godfath . . ." Harry was interrupted again.  
  
"They're having a sale next week at Nicol's. Maybe we should stop by, pick something up  
for Dudley."  
  
"Oh, I haven't gotten anything for my Dinky-Duddykins in such a long time. At least three  
days, oh, the poor boy must feel so deprived!"  
  
By now Harry was feeling *very* annoyed. It was if they were intentionally ignoring him.  
Of course, he wouldn't put it past them. "Hello?" Nothing. "Hello?" Not a blink towards him. "I  
thought you'd like to know that I just set the house on fire and you have ten seconds before it  
collapses on your heads!" Petunia served them the tea and sat at the table. "And I just turned  
Dudley into a three headed warthog!" He got a stunned look from Petunia, but Vernon cleared his  
throat and she looked away again.   
  
Harry was getting terribly frustrated so he figured that he better leave the room before  
someone ended up ten times their normal size and floating to the ceiling. He had to cough down a  
laugh at the thought of a ten-times larger Vernon Dursley overflowing the kitchen, cracking the  
walls. He decided to take his trunk upstairs to his room, anyway. It would never fit in the tiny  
cupboard.  
  
It took him a good fifteen minutes to haul his trunk up the stairs, and he almost dropped it  
and sent it flying to the bottom twice. When he had finished, panting and sweaty, he decided to  
take a shower. He pulled an old shirt and pants of Dudley's from his closet, and made his way to  
the bathroom. He got there just as Dudley was leaving.  
  
"Hey, Dudley. How's it going?" Dudley, just like his parents, ignored him. "What's the matter,  
Dudley, cat got your tongue? Or maybe it's just a little sore still? I can fix it if you just let me get  
my wand . . ."  
  
This had the effect Harry wanted. "Y-you're not supposed to do m-m-m . . ."  
  
"Oh, I know, but I'm sure the ministry would make an exception."  
  
"NO! Dad-dad said you're a freak and something would happen because something weird  
always happens so we were supposed to ignore you and nothing would happen like it did  
last time and the time before that and the time before that and the time before that so just leave me  
alone!" Harry didn't think Dudley took a single breath the hole time, and his suspicions were  
confirmed when he saw that Dudley's face looked like a great purple balloon.   
  
Dudley tried to get by Harry, but Harry blocked him. Dudley's eyes became very wide,  
and Harry thought they might pop out of his head and roll across the floor. Harry tried not to  
laugh at this but couldn't hold back any longer when Dudley suddenly dropped to the floor against  
the wall, curled up as much as his large stomach would allow, stuck his sausage-like fingers in his  
ears and began singing, "Lalalalalalaallalalallalaalalalalalalalalalala"  
  
"W...what are...are you d-oing?" Harry asked between gasps for breath.  
  
"Lalala . . . ignoring you . . . lalalalalalalalalalalala . . ."  
  
Harry was laughing so hard that he didn't hear the thunderous footsteps on the stairs, or  
see the large, red face of his fuming uncle coming up behind him.  
  
"What the blazes are you doing to Dudley?!?!"  
  
"N-nothing. I . . . I assure you . . . Dudley did it all by himself." Harry was fighting a losing  
battle to calm his laughter down.   
  
"Yeah right, nothing my arse! What have you done to Dudley!"  
  
Harry was about to defend himself once again, but Dudley spoke up instead. "He . . . he  
threatened me w-with m-m-m . . ." He never finished. He ran back into the bathroom and  
slammed the door behind him. Seconds later, Harry could hear retching from behind the door.  
  
"You . . ." Vernon growled through clenched teeth. "You . . . ruffian! You no good lazy  
free-loader! Don't you know that Dudley is sick?! He has been fighting a terrible battle these past  
few days! I daresay he's just barely hanging onto his life! He was healing, but you have probably  
reversed the process! If he dies . . ."  
  
"He's not going to die . . ."  
  
"And you *threatened* him with *magic*!?!"  
  
"I was only joking . . ."  
  
"And you wonder why you no longer have a bed in this house! You wonder why you are  
ignored! You lousy . . . you verminous . . . YOU!"  
  
"I said I was only joking . . ."  
  
"Don't talk back to me, boy! You don't deserve the air you breathe and here you are,  
taking it away from my *sick* son! Just give me one good reason and I'll . . .I'll . . ."  
  
"You'll what? Hit me? Like you have been threatening to do my entire life? You'll  
*stamp* the magic out of me? You'll lock me in the cupboard and only let me out to do chores?  
Stop my mail, sever my contact with my friends? What?" Harry tried to keep his voice calm and  
steady, but fourteen years of anger towards this man suddenly flew out of him like a dam had   
burst. "You lied to me for ten years, you kept me in a *cupboard* while your son had two  
bedrooms to himself, you never even had the decency to tell me how my parents really died and  
now what? What are you going to do *Vernon*, what?"  
  
"How dare you! After all I have sacrificed! After all I have given you . . ."  
  
"All you've given me? Yes, you have given me plenty! Lets see . . . spiders, a moldy blanket,  
thousands of questions loneliness . . .should I go on? I know people who treat their *dogs* better  
than you have treated me! But I am not a dog! I am a human being! I may be a wizard, but I am no  
different than you, just maybe a little brighter! I am your nephew, for God sakes!" Harry felt his  
face burning, his blood boiling underneath his skin. Somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped  
he didn't accidently turn Vernon into a bug or something, but right now, he didn't care. He stalked  
off to 'his' room and slammed the door, leaving a stunned uncle behind him.  
  
Harry was angry, more angry than he had ever remember being. Right now, Voldemort,  
Fudge and the Dursley's were all fighting for the same spot on his popularity scale. He leaned  
against the door to catch his breath and his thoughts. Surveying the room, he saw all the broken  
toys and ripped clothing that Dudley had tossed aside like garbage. It made him sick, how wasteful  
and greedy this one boy was. There probably had more broken toys in this room than any of the  
Weasley children had in their lives put together.   
  
He walked, as well as he could, to the center of the room and began kicking the toys out of  
the way. They slid across the floor, and Harry continued this process until he had enough room to  
make a makeshift bed. He pulled out several cotton shirts of Dudley's and laid them on the  
ground, then opened his trunk and pulled out all of his robes, and piled them up, too. He pulled  
out one more thing from his trunk before he sprawled out on the not-so-comfortable bed. His  
photo album.  
  
He flipped through the thick pages and watched his parents, Sirius and Remus wave  
happily at him. He conveniently forgot to look at the pictures with Pettigrew on them. Everyone  
looked so happy, so carefree. There was a few pictures that he really loved. One was of his parents  
sitting on a couch together. His father was beaming as his mother held his hand over her heavily  
pregnant belly. They didn't seem to even notice the photo being taken. Every few seconds a ripple  
could be seen across Lily's belly, appearing that he, Harry had been kicking.  
  
The other photo he loved was a photo given to him by Sirius. It was dirty and torn. Sirius  
said he had it with him the whole time he was in Azkaban, and he had taken it from the wreckage  
of the house in Godric's Hollow after Harry's parents had been murdered. James was sitting in a  
beautiful wingback chair, bouncing Harry on his knee, and swatting away Lily, who was standing  
behind him, giving him bunny ears. All three were laughing. Harry had his arms out, reaching for  
the photographer, Sirius, and his mouth was silently forming the words "Pafoo." That is what he  
apparently used to call Sirius.   
  
Harry was so wrapped up in looking at the photos that he didn't notice the door silently  
open, or two people walk in. He didn't even look up until he heard the door click closed. He  
looked up, and there stood a crying Petunia and a still fuming Vernon.  
  
"I hope you're happy." Vernon growled in a dangerously low voice. "Because of you  
Dudley is very upset, and lost his dinner. Do you know how long it's been since Dudley has eaten  
a decent meal? Hasn't had an appetite since he became sick, and this is the first time he has eaten  
in several days."  
  
"Somehow, Uncle Vernon, I seriously doubt that. And if it's true, then all the better. The  
whale needs to lose some weight." Harry answered, returning his gaze to his album.  
  
"Vernon, what did he just call my little Duddikins?"  
  
"A whale, Aunt Petunia. And If you look a little closer, you'll notice that Dudley isn't  
you're little *anything* anymore."  
  
Vernon's face swelled, and Harry feared for a moment he had inflated him, but then his  
uncle roared "HOW - DARE - YOU - INSULT - MY - SON!"  
  
Harry barely had time to register what was happening before the album was snatched out  
of his hands and he was hauled to his feet. "No one - especially you - EVER insults MY son. You  
are not half of what my son is." Vernon was grasping Harry's arm above the elbow so tightly that  
Harry could feel the circulation being cut off.  
  
Harry was getting a little nervous. He could see an furious glint in his uncles eye. But he  
didn't want to back down now. He swore to himself that he would never, ever, apologize to the  
Dursleys. "F-frankly, Vernon, I'd be surprised if *anyone* was half what Dudley is . . ."  
  
SMACK! Harry felt a burn on his cheek, and for a moment thought Vernon had hit him.  
Hedwig gave a loud screech from her cage. But Harry soon realized it wasn't Vernon who hit him   
at all. It was Petunia.  
  
"We took you in and all you can do is insult *our* Dudders. You deserve to die just as  
your parents did. You deserve to be murdered, to feel pain, to feel someone take your life away  
just as my worthless sister and her drunkard husband did. You've brought nothing but shame to  
this family, and I won't have any more of it!"  
  
Harry wrenched out of Vernon's grasp and put a hand to his cheek. He tasted metallic  
blood in his mouth and knew that he cut the inside of his lip on his teeth. He looked at his aunt in  
shock, not believing her capable of such actions. He couldn't move, and realized too late that  
Vernon's hand was reaching out to grab his hair. Vernon pushed him onto his knees and he felt a  
heavy foot connect with his stomach.  
  
For a moment there was no pain, just numbness, then it all hit him at once. His breath left  
him and his ribs felt like they must all be broken. He felt another kick, and another, and finally, he  
felt an explosion in the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Petunia standing  
there with a heavy wooden hockey stick that was broken in two in her hand, looking rather smug.  
He fell onto his back gasping for breath and clutching his ribs. He laid his head back, and felt  
another explosion as his new wound connected with the floor.  
  
"That will teach you to insult our son, you worthless piece of trash. We're leaving now, but  
we're taking your *family* with us." Vernon sneered. "Petunia, get the album."  
  
"No, no - please. I promise not to do it again. Please . . . don't . . ." He fought his aunt for  
the album, pulled it close to his chest. He felt a foot connect with the side of his head, and let go of  
the book to grab at his head. He heard Vernon laugh and the words: "Learned his lesson, he did."  
The feet were walking away. "But we may need to teach him more soon. So much to learn . . ."  
The door closed on his relatives, and he heard a lock being turned.  
  
Harry felt a swimming in his stomach and a dizziness in his head. He tried to get up, but  
that just made the room spin. Hedwig's terrified screeches grated on his brain. His last thought  
before he passed out were worry over his album, and how much he wished he was still being  
ignored.  
  
Things were defiantly not normal on number four Privet Drive.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Please tell me what you think. Should I go on, or just remove the story and pretend it never  
happened? I am fairly satisfied with this first chapter, but then again, I am a little biased. If you  
have any ideas, or anything you want to happen, feel free to tell me in your review, I might use it.  
If no one has any ideas, that's okay, because I have a pretty good idea now of where this is going.   
Thanks! 


	2. The Album

A/N: Thank you sooooooooooooo much to everyone who reviewed. I was so happy that you liked  
my story that you inspired me and I just had to start writing right away. (I have to confess that I  
love Harry torture also. Is that bad?)  
  
I also apologize, but yes, this story is Americanized a bit. I know it's not perfectly British, but  
really, I know very little about the different expressions used, so instead of making a fool of myself  
and using British terms that I may get wrong, I am using American (I know . . .the ultimate HP  
fanfic sin . . .) Don't hurt me, it's all I know! The furthest I have been away is to Canada! I do  
have a very good friend who is from England, but she has lived here so long that she hardly  
remembers the different terms. So, I am sorry to those of you who loathe an Americanized Harry  
Potter (I don't think it is as bad as some of those that I've seen, hopefully) And I also apologize to  
those who don't care and wasted a perfectly good minute reading this. I just wanted people to  
know that I am not ignorant, and I am trying my best! Thanks for listening to me ramble.   
  
I also have a question. Does anyone know how to post this without the formatting getting messed  
up? If you do, please tell me! Also, if you know how to make the italics stay, I would really  
appreciate someone telling me. If you know, you will have to tell me in a review because *sob* I  
don't have my own e-mail address. *hides face in shame* I had to use my dads to register, but he  
doesn't want it given out to everyone, considering he has about 5,567 unread messages at the  
moment!   
  
Once again, Harry Potter does not belong to me. It belongs to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury  
Publishing, Scholastic Inc. Warner Bros. and whoever else has their hand in the bag.   
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Normal  
  
Chapter Two  
  
  
Harry awoke to the sun pouring in his window and a pounding headache. He groaned and  
lifted his arm over his eyes to block out the harsh light. He didn't know how long he was out, but  
he did know it had to be at least several hours. Lifting his head slightly, he felt around to the bump  
where Petunia had struck him with the hockey stick. As soon as he touched it he wished he hadn't.  
It stung so sharply that his vision went blurry. He hissed in pain, and brought his hand quickly  
away. His fingers were covered a thin coat of blood. He groaned once again, and heard a soft hoot  
from Hedwig's cage.  
  
"It's okay, Hedwig." She gave him an incredulous look accompanied by another soft hoot.  
"Really, I'll be fine." He tried to stand up, but the room spun around him, and he had to drop to  
his knees to keep from falling over completely. "Just a little dizzy, that's all. Just a . . . a small . . . a  
small bump. N-nothing to worry about." What a thing for him to say! He, in fact, was extremely  
worried. The calming words were as much for his own sake as for Hedwig's. But it wasn't just his  
wound he was worried about. His aunt and uncle gave him these injuries! His remaining family,  
*not* Death Eaters, *not* Voldemort, not even a fifty-foot fall off a broomstick. His only family  
in the world, and here he was, being beaten for joking around with their *precious* Dudley.  
  
He wondered what Ron and Hermione were doing right now. Hermione was probably  
already halfway through their summer homework, happily writing essays and reading hundreds of  
books. Ron was most likely practicing quidditch with his brothers, or being practiced *on* by the  
twins and their inventions. He chuckled wryly. Whatever he thought he would be doing right now,  
it was *defiantly* not this.   
  
He thought for a minute he would write to someone, anyone, to get him out of Dursley's  
home. He could just imagine if he wrote to Dumbledore. He would just say that the Dursley  
residence was the safest place to be, and it was much better than being caught by Voldemort.  
Come to think of it, Sirius and Hermione would probably say the same thing. The only person he  
could think of who would try to get him out was Ron, and possibly Mrs. Weasley. But no one  
questioned Dumbledore, and because of that, he knew was stuck with the Dursleys.  
  
He stood up, slower this time, and went carefully to Hedwig's cage. He almost sprained his  
ankle by stepping on a loose marble, and cringed when he saw the hockey stick Petunia used to hit  
him with. It had a few small speckles of blood over the brand-name. He leaned heavily on the desk  
with one hand, and with the other, opened Hedwig's cage. Then he opened the window.   
  
"Why don't you go fly around a little bit. I know it's not nighttime, but you haven't been  
out for awhile." She looked at him, her large eyes looking worried. He stroked her head  
reassuringly. "It's okay. I won't do anything to upset the ogres. I promise I'll be fine." Another  
wave of dizziness hit him and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep the room from tilting.  
Hedwig hooted as if saying 'Yeah right you'll be fine.'   
  
"I'm serious, Hedwig. I just need to get some pain-relievers, that's all. Then I'll be fine.  
There's really nothing you can do, so go out and get yourself a rat, or something." Hedwig,  
seemingly deciding that there really *was* nothing she could do, nipped his finger, and took off  
out the window. He watched her fly gracefully across the sky until she was nothing more than a  
tiny spec, and finally, disappeared.   
  
Harry made his way to the door, a process that took far longer than it should have because  
of the mess and the fact that every few seconds the room decided to flop upside down, or do a  
somersault or something that made him grab the wall and scrunch his eyes shut. When he finally  
reached the door, he realized that he couldn't open it. He remembered the click of the lock he  
heard last night, and knew that his aunt and uncle had locked him in. Now what?  
  
He pounded on the door, and yelled "Uncle Vernon? Aunt Petunia? Dudley? Anyone  
there? Hello . . . I need help! I promise I won't do anything! HELLO?" He heard a noise coming  
from outside that sounded like three car doors slamming. He made his way to the window, a little  
faster this time, and looked out just in time to see the three Dursleys entering the house; Petunia  
had her arm around Dudley, who was wrapped in a blanket. Vernon, just before entering, looked  
up at him in the window, his face a mask of pure rage.  
  
Vernon never looked pleasant, but something about the way Vernon reminded him of a  
charging bull registered a panic alarm in his head.   
  
He heard heavy footsteps on the stairs . . . someone grab the doorknob . . . a lock being  
turned . . . defiantly not good . . . Harry was practically leaning out the window when Vernon  
entered, equipped with clenched fists and a face so red, and veins popping out so far that he  
looked as though he might burst. He saw his uncles eyes flit between him and Hedwig's empty  
cage.  
  
"So." Vernon growled, sounding remarkably like an angry dog. "I just came home from  
taking Dudley to the doctor. Not good, it is. He has the flu, a very bad case I might add. The  
doctor says that he is under too much stress, and it's . . . what's the word he used . . .impeding his  
healing process."  
  
"W-what's your point?" Harry knew he shouldn't egg his uncle on, but there was just  
something about the man that made him so . . . just so . . . he couldn't even think of the word, he  
just knew that he wasn't going to let the man blame him for everything.  
  
"So, we were driving home, poor Dudley in shivers, and what do we see? None other than an  
owl. A large, white owl, flying right over our heads! In broad daylight! Of course, it mightn't have  
been yours, it could have been a coincidence. But I should know better by now, that nothing,  
NOTHING, to do with you and *your kind* has *anything* to do with coincidence. But now,  
now I see. You let it out. You let it out in broad daylight where *anyone* could have seen you.  
What will the neighbors think if they saw you . . ." He never finished his sentence.  
  
Vernon was so overcome with rage that he began making his way to Harry. Harry briefly  
thought about jumping out the window, but severed that thought quickly. All he needed was a nice  
fall out a window before Vernon dragged him in and beat him anyway. Five feet . . . three feet . .  
. two feet . . . Harry closed his eyes, preparing to be struck, but instead of a smack, he heard a  
crash, and loud swearing. He opened one eye to see Vernon sprawled out on the floor, apparently  
having tripped over something. Vernon growled deep in his throat and shot up, surprisingly quick  
for such a large man.  
  
"YOU DID THAT, BOY, DIDN'T YOU!" It was more of a statement than a question.  
  
"No, I-"  
  
"Don't you lie to me, boy, I know you did it! You did it with your freak magic! First you  
make my son sick, then you try to harm me . . ."  
  
"I didn't, I-" He never even got to defend himself. He felt Vernon's large, beefy hand connect  
with his jaw, felt the blood spray from his already cut lip. He felt his hair being pulled, his face  
being scratched. He felt sharp kicks to his legs and hard punches to his already bruised ribs. He  
raised his arms to cover his head, but they were pushed away. His uncle grabbed him by the wrist  
and pulled him from the room. His head now felt like it was rolling, and it made his stomach  
queasy when Vernon pulled him down the stairs. He was pushed violently to the floor in the  
kitchen, barely noticing Petunia and Dudley sitting at the kitchen table, Petunia looking very smug,  
and Dudley with pleasure and glee written all over his large face.  
  
Harry lay face down to the cold tiles. He closed his eyes tight, but soon felt his uncle standing  
over him. He felt Vernon's hand grab his hair and pull his face up off the ground, and he cried out  
as the torn skin on his forehead was stretched, and his neck bent at a very unnatural angle.  
  
"Open your eyes, boy," Vernon yelled. Harry ignored him, concentrating on trying to make  
the pain go away, "I SAID OPEN YOUR EYES! Look at my son! Look at what you and your  
abnormalities have done to him! Sick as a dog! Don't forget that little *tail* that . . . that oaf gave  
him. Very painful and very expensive surgery to fix that . . . and you remember what else  
happened in this kitchen? I think you remember. My poor sister, she was so frightened! And over  
there," he roughly pushed Harry's head in the direction of the living room. "Over there is where  
your kind *ruined* our fireplace, and then fed Dudley *poisoned* candy! It could have killed him!   
But do you care? No! You and your freakish friends have brought nothing but pain and suffering  
on this family . . ."  
  
"Don't forget shame!" Petunia piped up.  
  
"Yes, and shame! But all you do is sit in your room and look at those . . . those pictures -   
if you can call them that - and think about your freak family! Not caring what happens to the  
people who were decent enough to take you in! Well, you've hurt *my* family long enough. Now  
it's your family's turn, starting . . ." He let go of Harry's head, and it hit the ground with a smack.  
"With this." He had walked to the counter and picked something up. The familiar embossed cover  
of his photo album flopped uselessly to and fro as Vernon waved it around.   
  
He grabbed Harry off the floor with one hand, and lifted him to his feet. Harry's knees  
immediately fell out from under him, but Vernon held him up, forcing him into the living room.  
Harry tripped over his feet, that had apparently turned to jelly, as Vernon ushered him along,  
Petunia and Dudley close on their heels like a pair of rabid dogs.   
  
Harry was once again thrown to the floor, this time resulting in rug burns on his elbows.  
He saw blood running down the lens of his glasses, which were dangerously close to falling off.  
He quickly flipped over onto his back, prepared to push himself away from his uncle. Vernon,  
Petunia and Dudley sat side-by-side on the immaculately clean couch.  
  
"Petunia darling, would you like to do the honors?"  
  
He held up the album, front cover open, and turned the smiling, waving pictures towards  
his wife. Without a word, she grabbed onto the first page and slowly, agonizingly so, ripped out  
the page. When she had finished, she tossed the it to the floor, and watched as her son and  
husband repeated the process.  
  
Harry couldn't move. The only thing he could think of was that he could always get a new  
album, and as long as the pictures were okay, everything would be fine. Rip . . . rip . . . the sound  
tore at him as if someone had reached inside his chest and was squeezing at his heart. Rip . . .  
Hagrid had worked so hard on that album . . . the pages were piling up . . . just a few more, and  
the album that was all he had to remember his parents would be a shell . . . one more page . . .  
empty.  
  
Finding his legs, he pushed himself to his knees. He slid his glasses up on his nose, his  
hand brushing his cheek. It came back wet. He looked at his hand, prepared to see blood, but it  
was clear. He hadn't even noticed he was crying. Looking at the Dursleys, who were sitting  
placidly, watching him, he began gathering the pages into a pile. He stood, intending to leave the  
room, but Petunia grabbed his wrist.  
  
"I don't think we're done with you, yet. Vernon? Maybe you should light a fire . . ."  
  
"NO! Aunt Petunia . . . please . . ." Harry stuttered. Vernon smiled at his wife proudly. He  
lit the fire, and began stoking it with the sharp poker.   
  
The fire grew quickly, almost too quickly in Harry's mind. "Give me the pictures, boy."  
  
"NO!"  
  
"GIVE ME THE PICTURES NOW!"  
  
"I SAID NO! You've made your point perfectly clear! But I will not let you ruin my only  
pictures of my parents! I won't let you." He held the pictures tight in his hands, his knuckles  
turning white.  
  
Vernon smiled at him, a smile Harry defiantly didn't like the looks of. Before he knew  
what was happening, Vernon had spun around, still holding the red-hot poker. He pressed the tip  
against Harry's bare arm, and Harry recoiled, crying out in pain, and dropping the pages to the  
floor. He blew on the blistering burn on his arm, attempting to cool it down. During this time,  
Dudley scrambled around on the floor, picking up the loose pages and handing them to his father.  
  
Vernon held one page over the fire. Harry tried to rush at him, and take the pictures back,  
but Petunia held his arms behind him, digging her fingers into his still-painful burn. He watched in  
horror as the page dropped from Vernon's hand, and into the fireplace. The fire greedily  
consumed his parent's wedding . . . acrid smelling black smoke poured into the room as he  
watched his first birthday go up in flames. He struggled against his aunt, but he was just too weak  
  
"What is wrong with you people?!? That's all I have . . . please, stop . . . please . . . I  
promise I won't bother you! I'll leave tonight! Just stop . . .please . . ." He could now feel tears  
steadily pour down his face, but he didn't care. There went his first steps . . . his father's surprise  
birthday party . . . only one more page . . . he looked at it, and with horror saw it was the page  
with his favorite pictures on it. His parents and him on a chair, laughing and Lily holding James's  
hand to her pregnant belly. Time seemed to slow down as he watched it float onto the fire. Flames  
began licking the edge of the black paper.   
  
He never knew if he had broken free, or if his aunt had just let him go. He didn't care. He  
ran to the fireplace, dropped to his knees, and reached into the fire. He ignored the searing pain all  
over his hand, and tried to grasp the page. He got his hand around it . . . just as it crumbled into  
ashes.   
  
He pulled his burning black hand out of the fire, and heard laughter all around. He heard  
bits of words "Stupid boy . . . think you're invincible, do you . . . think your *magic* will help you  
. . ." But nothing mattered. It was gone. He had lost his parents once again. He felt someone  
roughly pull him to his feet, but he didn't know who. He was ushered to the bathroom, and his  
hand was shoved under the sink, the cold water making his skin raw and red.  
  
He was returned to his room in a daze, not hearing anything around him, not feeling  
anything except the loss, made new once again. He was pushed through the door so violently that  
he practically flew across the room. Heading towards the open window. At the last second, he  
reached out his arms and braced himself against the ledge, but the force was so strong that his  
glasses went flying off his bloody and tear-stained nose, and right out the window. He heard them  
hit the pavement below.  
  
Vernon's voice come to him, as if from very far away "Have you learned your lesson."  
Harry nodded numbly. "And don't think for a minute, boy, that that *bird* of yours is allowed  
back in this house. Your windows *will* remain closed tonight, and as of tomorrow, the bars are  
going back up. And if any of your *freak* friends show up, you're going to wish you had died  
with your parents. You got that?" He nodded again.  
  
"Got . . .get . . . glasses." he said thickly.  
  
"You should have thought of that before you dropped them, now shouldn't you?" Harry  
slid to the floor, all energy gone. His uncle stepped over him and closed the window, locking it. He  
heard Vernon's voice mumbling to himself before he left the room. "Freak . . . abnormalities . . .  
wizards - HA!"  
  
Harry lie on the hard floor, not even bothering to move to his *bed*. He wanted nothing  
more than to just pass out, and be oblivious to the world, but he couldn't. He was left with nothing  
to think about besides the pain he was in and how was he *possibly* going to get out of this one.  
He clutched his burned hand to his chest and did the only thing he could think of. He cried.  
  
  
* * *  
  
What Harry didn't know, was that there was a snowy white owl looking in on him through  
the closed window. She saw her master, her best friend, lying on the floor in considerable pain,  
and knew he must have help immediately. She swooped down to the pavement, picked up the  
bloody, cracked glasses, and was off into the afternoon sky.  
  
  
  
  
  
You know how "All work and no play make Jack a dull boy"? Well . . .  
  
All work and no reviews make Avidia a sad girl :(  
All work and no reviews make Avidia a sad girl :(  
All work and no reviews make Avidia a sad girl :(  
All work and no reviews make Avidia a sad girl :( 


	3. Feathered Fruties and Cups of Sugar

A/N: HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME . . . working on 400 point research paper . . . staring at  
computer all day . . . eyes have gone numb . . .brain is mush . . . two pages down and six to go . . .  
I decided to take a break because I really wanted to write this. The research paper isn't that  
important. It only decides whether I pass English 11. If I don't pass English 11 I don't graduate . . .  
no biggie.   
  
I have this planned out now! I know what's gonna happen! Yea! *jumping up and down* I don't  
know how many chapters, though. I didn't want to plan it out too thoroughly, or it wouldn't be  
very fun to write. I like to be surprised when I write. But I do know everything that is going to  
happen.   
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Inc., Warner   
Bros. and whoever else has their hand in the bag.   
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
Normal  
Chapter Three  
  
Ron Weasley got out of the bath tub and dried his flaming red hair. The bath water that was  
quickly draining from the small tub was grey with dust and dirt. He put on some clean cloths and  
walked on shaky legs to his room. The ghoul moaned and clanged about, sounding as if he was in  
pain.  
  
"I know how you feel." Ron said to the ceiling as he threw himself on the bed. He had  
made a huge mistake that day. Not just a mistake, a stupid mistake. He should have known better!  
What was he, an idiot? He always had to be on the lookout, these days. No where was safe. He  
found himself constantly looking over his shoulder and jumping at small noises. He lived in fear,  
and now that Voldemort had returned, it seemed worse. It seemed that they never stopped, never  
took a break.   
  
Fred and George were ruthless.  
  
Ron had *actually* been doing homework at the kitchen table, minding his own business.  
He mindlessly reached for some candy in a dish in the middle of the table, and the next thing he  
knew, he was lying on the floor. Everything was huge. The table he had just been sitting at now  
towered above him like a skyscraper. He tried to get up, but his legs seemed glued together. He  
tried to yell for someone, and his mouth was filled with feathers. He lie there for over an hour  
before Molly had come in from the garden.  
  
"Mum!" He said, his mouth once again filling with feathers. She didn't seem to hear him,  
but she did see him. Her huge hand picked him up off the ground, and before he realized what  
was happening, she began swirling his head around on the furniture, taking him from room to  
room. He had a colossal headache after the first five minutes, but the torture went on for half an  
hour. Suddenly he was his normal size again, able to move his legs, and most importantly, able to  
speak.  
  
"FRED! GEORGE! I"M GOING TO KILL YOU!"  
  
He heard two feet clomping down the stairs, and the twins appeared in the room. "What  
did we do?" Fred asked. George nudged him in the side and said in a hushed voice:  
  
"Fred, tell me you remembered to put away the feathered fruties!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley, who had been speechless at the sight of her feather duster suddenly turning  
into her son, found her voice. "FEATHERED *WHAT*?"  
  
"Oh, nothing . . . I didn't say anything, how 'bout you Fred?"  
  
"Nope, nothing? Didn't hear a thing, did you George?"  
  
"Nope, not a thing."  
  
"You boys and your . . . your . . . wheezes! How irresponsible can you be! I've given up  
on you getting a decent job and forgetting these . .tricks . . . but I at least expect you to be  
responsible with them and *not* test them on your siblings!"  
  
"We didn't! I mean, we did . . . but we didn't mean to this time! Honest! Fred just forgot  
to put them away!" Their heads moved up and down so fast, they seemed to be practicing  
synchronized nodding. The twins had been popping out new tricks for Weasley's Wizarding  
Wheezes as fast as they could come up with them. And Feathered Fruties were their latest. 'Turns  
the consumer into a feather duster for hours of fun!'   
  
"You boys are old enough to remember to put away your things! Honestly, you are sixteen  
years old! Just wait until your father comes home! You'll be grounded into next week!"  
  
Fred cast his eyes between his brothers and his mother. The corners of his mouth turned  
up as he said: "You know, mum, we could be killed! What if we get grounded and everyone else is  
out, and all of a sudden, dragons descend on the house, and while we valiantly fight it off, we are  
no match for it's fiery breath of doom, and all that's left are our ashes? How would you feel if the  
last thing you said to us was 'You'll be groun-"  
  
"THAT WON"T WORK THIS TIME!"   
  
The argument went on like that for two hours. Ron, unable to get a word in around his  
mother's screaming and the twins defending, shook the dust out of his hair, and went to bathe, and  
now, as he lay on his bed, he could still hear them going back and forth, though he could tell it was  
dying down - the yelling was now down to "Yes you dids" and "No we didn'ts". He picked up his  
new transfiguration book and flipped through it. Just as boring as usual. He tried to read, but he  
found his attention kept drifting out the window.   
  
He was looking outside for the third time after trying to read. Hermione said he needed to  
study more. He was really studying so he would have some interesting conversation starters to use  
on the female part of the Dream Team, although he would never admit it to anyone, especially  
himself. He watched a tiny speck flying through the sky. It caught his attention because something  
hanging just below the speck was glinting in the sun.  
  
The speck got closer, and closer. He realized it was an owl. A pure white, snowy owl. It  
aimed itself at his open window. The only snowy owl he knew was Hedwig.  
  
"Wow. Harry usually doesn't send letters this quickly," he mumbled to himself. "It's only  
been three days!" Hedwig flew through his window, hooting madly.  
  
"Calm down, Hedwig!" She swooped in circles around his head, reminding him of Pig,  
only she wasn't hyper or excited. Her hoots sounded positively terrified. "What's wrong? What do  
you have, Hedwig?" She dropped her burden in his hands.  
  
"Oh my God . . .MUM!!"   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Molly Weasley's heart was pounding like she had just run a marathon. She had been  
yelling at Fred and George, when she heard Ron's yell. But it wasn't just an ordinary yell. It  
sounded terrified. She had run upstairs to Ron's room to find him facing the window, looking at  
an object in his hand, Hedwig flying in circles above his head.  
  
"What is it Ron?"  
  
"Hedwig. . . Harry . . . I don't know . . . just, it's his glasses." He turned and showed her  
what was in his hands. It was Harry's glasses, only they were broken . . . and bloody.  
  
"What's going on, Ron?"  
  
"I don't know! I was just . . . and then Hedwig . . .his glasses . . . I don't know!" He  
stumbled over his words. His hands shook as he held the broken glasses, covered in dried blood.  
"Y-you don't suppose . . .You-Know-Who?"  
  
"I don't know, Ron. Why don't you give me those . . . I'm going to call up Dumbledore  
over the fire." She took the glasses from her son's shaking hand, and practically flew down the  
stairs. She threw some powder in the fire. This powder was different than floo powder. It called  
the person to a fireplace, and made it possible to talk to each other. The fire grew, and she yelled  
"Albus Dumbledore!"   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office, thinking up some words of wisdom for next  
years sorting ceremony. So far he has come up with tintinnabulation, outre and anomalous. He  
was trying to come up with one more, when he heard a roaring from the fireplace. He looked over  
and Molly Weasley's head appeared, her eyes wide. She didn't waste time with hellos.  
  
"Professor, I think we have a problem."  
  
"What is it, Molly?" He kept his voice low and calm, because she sounded as if she was  
about to pass out.  
  
"That's just it! I don't know! I was downstairs, yelling at Fred and George, when I heard  
Ron yelling from upstairs. I went up, and there was Ron, with Hedwig - you know, Harry's owl -  
and she was hooting like she had gone mad. I asked Ron what was happening, and he showed me  
what Hedwig brought." She pushed the glasses to Dumbledore. "There was no message or note or  
anything, and Hedwig is still screeching. Look at them! There's blood!"  
  
Dumbledore had stopped listening once Harry's glasses were given to him. There was an  
odd buzzing in his ears. The frame was bent and both lenses were cracked, with dried blood  
smeared over them.   
  
"You don't think . . .You-Know-Who . . ."  
  
"No, Molly. Harry is very well protected at the Dursley's. I don't think Voldemort could  
have done anything." He was still looking at the glasses in his hands.  
  
"Then what's happened? Maybe Arthur and I should go and check on him. I'm worried."  
  
So am I, Molly. But there's no need for you and Arthur to go all that way. I'll owl  
Arabella, she lives right down the street from Harry. She can check on him."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes, Molly. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will keep you posted."  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster. Oh, dear I hope he's alright."  
  
"So do I, Molly." And with a pop, Molly Weasley's head disappeared. Dumbledore  
reached into a golden cup on the mantle, picked up some powder and threw it into the fire yelling  
"Arabella Figg!"  
  
  
* * *   
  
  
Arabella Figg was sitting at her kitchen table, revamping her scrapbook, when she heard  
the roar of the fire from the other room, and Dumbledore's voice call "Arabella?"  
  
She got up and went as quickly as she could to the living room without tripping over a cat.  
"Hello, Dumbledore. What brings you to my fire today?"  
  
"I'm afraid it isn't good news. Molly Weasley has just brought these to my attention." He  
held out the glasses to her. "Apparently Harry's owl brought them to Molly's son - Harry's best  
friend - and was very scared. I would like you to check on Harry, if you would."  
  
"Of course I will!"  
  
"Good, considering the new charm I put up at the end of the year. Harry, you, Minerva  
and I are the only wizards who can see Harry's house. I had to talk Molly out of going over herself.  
Imagine what would happen if she and Arthur showed up to find Harry's house missing!"  
  
"I know. I'll go right over."  
  
"Make sure you let me know what is happening as soon as you find out."  
  
"Yes, Albus." Dumbledore's head disappeared with a pop. Arabella put on her shoes and a  
coat, stuffed her wand in her pocket and left for number four Privet Drive. As she neared the  
darkened house, she noticed one on the windows had bars over it. Very peculiar.  
  
It wasn't until she knocked on the door that she realized that it was getting late. She had  
no good reason to be there. There were heavy footsteps coming toward the door. She thought  
frantically for a reason to have come over so late in the day. The door swung open and there stood  
Vernon Dursley.  
  
Vernon was in his pajamas. He gave her an odd look when he opened the door, and then  
smiled a large fake smile, so large his eyes squinted shut. It kind of made him look like one of  
those dogs that looked like they ran face first into a wall. Still smiling, he said "Why, hello Mrs.  
Figg! What brings you here on this fine evening?"  
  
She thought fast, and finally, came up with the oldest cliche in the book. "Hello, Vernon.  
I'm terribly sorry to bother you this late, but I am in quite a mess. I need to make a cake for my . .  
.er . . .cat . . .club . . .er. . . meeting tomorrow and I've found I have no sugar. Could I bother you  
for some? I'm sorry I didn't bring a cup. They are all dirty." Something about his face told her that  
she shouldn't just come out and ask about Harry. She didn't know what it was, but something was  
terribly wrong.  
  
"Of course, of course. Come on in. PETUNIA!" Petunia's face appeared around the  
corner of the living room wall automatically, as if she had been eavesdropping.  
  
"Yes, dear?"  
  
"Mrs. Figg here needs to borrow some sugar. Why don't you get her some?"  
  
"Oh, of course, Mrs. Figg! You can always borrow anything from us, anytime! Just ask  
and you can have it!" Petunia sounded as if she was trying just a little *to* hard to be nice. "Why  
don't you come in, dear, and you can sit on the couch while I get it for you!"  
  
Arabella stepped inside, and her nostrils were immediately bombarded with the an acrid,  
smokey smell. She scrunched up her nose. Vernon must have seen her do this, because he laughed  
and said "Dudley. He thought it would be good fun to burn some dead leaves in the fireplace, little  
rascal." She didn't know what the smell was, but it *defiantly* wasn't dead leaves.  
  
She sat on the couch, and Vernon sat in a chair across from her. Looking into the  
fireplace, she saw quite a large amount of ash in the bottom. She jumped slightly when Vernon  
quickly closed the screen in front of the hearth.   
  
"So, Mrs. Figg, how are all the cats doing?" He gave her that large fake smile once again.  
  
"Oh, they're just fine. And how is your son?"  
  
"Oh, Dudley is right as rain! He's been a little under the weather lately, but it's just a cold.  
What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" He gave a hearty, booming laugh.  
  
"Er . . .right." Just then, Petunia came back in, carrying a glass measuring cup filled to the  
brim with sugar.  
  
"And, here you are! That should do it! If you need anything else, just come on back!"   
  
Arabella took a deep breath and asked what she had really come over for. "So how is that  
nephew of yours?" She know the Dursleys didn't like Harry, from what she had heard from  
Dumbledore in the past, and also what she had heard herself. Sometimes the Dursleys yelled at  
Harry so loudly, it could be heard several houses down.  
  
She saw their faces promptly darken. Vernon's eyes were no longer scrunched up, and  
Petunia looked as if she could growl. They looked . . . terrifying. She had seen many things in her  
lifetime, and not many things scared her, but the pure hatred they positively oozed out of their  
pores alarmed her.  
  
"Why do you ask?" Vernon asked through clenched teeth.  
  
"N-no reason . . . I was just wondering if . . .if he was still, you know, making trouble."  
She didn't want to make them any angrier than they were.  
  
"That boy doesn't make trouble. He *IS* trouble. To answer your question, yes he has  
caused problems already. We have dealt with him, though, so there's nothing to worry about." The  
way he said "dealt" unnerved her.  
  
She got up and went to the door, the two Dursleys following closely. She turned to say  
thank you, but when she did, another shock ran through her, as if she had been electrocuted.  
Vernon's eyes . . . it couldn't be . . . it wasn't possible! She looked at Petunia and saw the same  
thing. NO . . . no . . . not again . . .  
  
She fumbled for the doorknob behind her, threw the door open, and stepped backwards  
onto the porch. "T-thank yo-u. I"ll j-just be go-going now." She turned and quickly fled the  
property, as quickly as her feet would take her. She spilled sugar in a trail behind her, but she  
didn't care.   
  
This couldn't be happening! Not again! She thought they had been rid of that for a long  
time now! How could it possibly be happening again? Not now, and certainly, not here! She had to  
reach Dumbledore right away. She had to tell him! She feared if they weren't quick about it, Harry  
might not have much time.  
  
She had seen this before. It was supposedly an extinct curse. How could the Dursleys  
possibly be affected by it?  
  
The trademark of the curse wasn't very obvious, you almost had to be looking for it to  
find it. But it was defiantly there.   
  
Both Dursleys had small, red rings around their pupils.   
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
A/N:  
Ok, that wasn't the best chapter. Like I said my brain is mush. I hope it's not too bad. I'll fix it if it  
is.   
  
Has anyone else tried to write Hedwig, but kept writing Headwig instead? Or is that just me?  
  
Thank y'all so much for the reviews! I was sitting in the chair reading them and kind of jumping  
up and down and laughing from pure joy at the same time. I either looked really hyper or like I had  
to use the bathroom really badly, but either way, my brother thinks I am insane. So thank you for  
making my family think I'm insane. . .I mean thank you for all the reviews :0)   
  
If anyone has any questions they want me to answer (I know there can't be many yet as this is just  
the third chapter) just ask. I will answer them in the next chapter if I can, or if it doesn't ruin the  
story.   
  
And I know there was something else I wanted to say but I forgot, so I'll probably remember about  
five seconds *after* I post this.  
  
Au Revoir, mes amis!  
~Avidia~ 


	4. Temperament

A/N: Yes, alas it is true. You have to sit through yet another one of my rambling author notes  
(unless, of course, you skip through these, which you don't. Do you? DO YOU? Well, I guess you  
don't because if you're reading this, you obviously don't skip them. Ok, I'll shut up now . . .) I  
made a boo-boo. I wanted to post the last chapter as quickly as I could, and usually I check  
through them several times before I post because there is always something I missed, but with  
chapter three I fell into a plot-hole. I figured out a way to dig myself out, but it kind of makes  
everything sound a little hokey. I'm not going to tell you where it is, because hopefully you won't  
even notice, but just to let you know in case you do. :)  
  
  
*grumblegrumble* stupid formatting! I hate that it is all messed up. I don't know how, or even if I  
*can* fix it. It's really annoying me because that's one of the things that turns me off other stories,  
when the formatting is all fujumbled. (Yes, I make up my own words. Have a problem with that?)  
The story can be the best one in the world (Not that I'm saying this one is), but when the  
formatting is screwy, then it makes it difficult to read. *hits computer because she doesn't know  
what else to do*.  
  
On to the disclaimer - I am not J.K Rowling, I do not own Harry Potter, I do not own Bloomsbury  
Publishing, Warner Bros. or Scholastic Inc. I am the queen of the world, however, so I guess I'll  
just have to live with that. :o)  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Normal  
Chapter Four  
  
  
  
Dumbledore had just finished talking with Arabella over the fire. He hadn't remembered  
spending this much time on the fire since the fall of Voldemort. He leaned back in his high chair,  
steepled his fingertips under his chin, and thought about the conversation they had just had.  
  
Arabella had been adamant that she had seen the red rings around the Dursley's pupils,  
and he believed her. It really shouldn't surprise him, after all Voldemort was back, so why  
wouldn't he bring the curse back with him? What worried Dumbledore the most, was not  
Voldemort, or the fact that the curse was back, but the fact that the Dursleys were under the curse,  
and Harry was alone with them, not knowing what was going on.   
  
He decided it best under the circumstances to get Harry out of the Dursley's care.  
Normally being under the Dursleys care was the safest place for Harry to be, but not anymore.  
With a sudden pang of guilt, Dumbledore regretted sending Harry to the Dursleys. He should have  
checked on the before sending Harry to stay with them. Why hadn't he thought of checking the  
Dursleys before Harry went back to them? How could he be so stupid as to think that Voldemort  
wouldn't get to them? Wasn't he, Albus Dumbldore, supposedly the most respected wizard of his  
time, supposed to be able to think of everything? Why was it that he could defeat Grindelwald, run  
a school, head up the Order of the Phoenix and have the ministry on his heels everyday asking for  
advice about this and that, but he couldn't even keep one fourteen year old boy safe?  
  
Putting Harry in the Dursley's care was one thing, but getting him out would be quite  
another. The wards around Harry's house was made so no wizards besides Harry, Arabella,  
Minerva and himself could even see it. To every other wizard, it was just an empty lot. He put it  
up after Harry left Privet Drive for his third year. He was becoming increasingly worried about  
attacks, and sooner or later he knew Harry would need protection. He made it sooner, rather than  
later. But that was the problem. No one who could actually see the house could get Harry out.  
  
Arabella wanted to go back and get Harry out after she gathered her bearings, but  
Dumbledore flat out refused. She had spent her entire life protecting Harry. She had made a new  
life for herself in her home just down the street from Harry. If the Dursleys figured out she was a  
witch, that would ruin everything. They could not risk Arabella's position being given away. It was  
too dangerous for her.  
  
Minerva McGonagall was currently in Bulgaria, along with Professor Sprout. After the  
Triwizard Tournament, the Bulgarians felt that even after all that happened, even after Hogwarts  
had lost a champion, that the tournament was set up for a Hogwarts victory. Crouch was the head  
of international magical cooperation, but with him dead, they needed to send someone to talk  
things over with them, explain what had happened. Percy Weasley really should have gone, but  
much to his indignation, the ministry didn't think him experienced or qualified enough to handle  
such delicate matters. They asked Dumbledore to send someone he trusted to fix matters, someone  
with a cool head and good diplomatic skills. Naturally, he had chosen Minerva.   
  
Professor Sprout had gone with her to as a representative of the Diggory family, to kind of  
appeal to their hearts, to show that Hogwarts had not cheated, and had lost a young man with a  
bright future.  
  
Dumbledore himself could not go to get Harry out simply because the ministry had horrible  
timing. He had gotten an owl from Minister Fudge not two days after school let out saying that he  
was willing to meet with Dumbledore and rationally discuss the whole "You-Know-Who issue".  
Dumbledore was skeptical as to what Fudge's idea of rational was, but he nevertheless agreed to  
the meeting. He was hoping he might also be able to make an appeal for a trial for Sirius, but he  
had to be sure that Fudge wasn't going to lose it again first. The meeting was scheduled for half an  
hour from now, and couldn't be postponed. Dumbledore knew from experience that most ministry  
meetings could take several days to complete. Participants often had to take pepper-upper potion to  
keep themselves awake during the long hours.   
  
So with everyone who was cleared to enter Harry's house unable to do so, he had to not  
only take the charm down, but find someone to get him. Neither were a problem, except that after  
the charm was down, they had to wait five hours for the aftereffects to wear off so the house could  
actually be seen. That also worried Dumbledore. A lot could happen in five hours. A lot.  
  
There were no other teachers who stayed at Hogwarts over the summer holidays, except  
Hagrid, and he was currently on a mission to meet with the giants with Madame Maxime. Argus  
Filch also stayed at the school, but Dumbledore would feel much better sending someone who not  
only could do magic, but also cared if Harry got out alright.  
  
There were only two people he could think of to do the job. He raised himself from the  
desk and left his office, heading for the Gryffindor common room.  
  
When he reached the portrait, the Fat Lady said hello and swung open immediately for him  
to enter. There, laying on the couch in front of the fire, was a large shaggy black dog.  
  
"Hello, Sirius."  
  
The dog jerked his head up, surprised. When he saw who it was, he jumped off the couch  
and changed into his human form.  
  
"Hello, Professor Dumbledore. Have another mission for me?" He had finished his last  
mission a day ago, and was already becoming restless.  
  
"In a sense. Sirius, I think you'd better sit down. This is going to be a long story."  
  
The two sat on the couch, and Dumbledore began. He told Sirius about Molly Weasley's  
call, and Harry's glasses. Then of Arabella's visit to the Dursley's. Sirius was, to say the least,  
incredibly worried about his godson. Dumbledore told him about what Arabella had found, and  
the red rings around the Dursley's pupils. Sirius started to ask what that meant, but Dumbledore  
held up a hand and told him to ask questions when he was done. He went on to tell him about why  
no one else but Sirius himself could get Harry out, but he would have help.  
  
When he finished, he only had fifteen minutes until he had to floo over to the ministry. He  
asked Sirius for his questions.   
  
"What do you mean by 'red rings around their pupils'? What does that mean? Does it have  
to do with you-know-who?" Sirius's voice was a little unsteady with fear.  
  
"Yes. I figured you would ask that. Well, I guess I'll start from the beginning. When  
Voldemort was in power, he used all three unforgivable curses at his will, am I correct?"  
  
"Yes." Sirius said this as if he didn't know where the conversation was going, and maybe a  
little part of him didn't want to know.  
  
"Well, after awhile, Voldemort grew tired of these curses. He wanted a curse that was not  
thousands of years old, but something people would strictly associate with him. He and several of  
his followers come up with many new curses. He only taught them to his Death Eaters, and they  
are under a magical contract never to tell anyone else how to perform them. None of them have a  
name, so we usually just call them by what they do.   
  
"Among these curses was what we simply called the 'temperament curse'. When someone  
is placed under this curse, it caused all of their emotions and feelings to go out of control. If, say,  
someone who hated you was placed under the curse, their feelings would be magnified a  
thousandfold, and may cause them to do things that aren't normal for their character. So is the  
case with Harry's relatives. They hate him, possibly abnormally so *without* the curse, but they  
would never hurt him. They are too afraid of what might happen. But under the curse, they don't  
care. They would care about one thing and one thing only: venting their hatred. The same goes for  
someone who is in love, or someone who is sad. Whatever emotion they felt towards anyone was  
increased.  
  
"I need to tell you this, Sirius. This will not be pleasant to hear. I want you ro promise me  
to stay calm. This is hard enough as it is." Sirius nodded.. "When someone is injured by someone  
else under this curse, which we are assuming Harry has been, the wounds he has sustained . . .  
they hurt more that they normally would. Just as the feelings would be magnified, so would the  
pain of an wounds. A bruise would feel like a broken bone. And also . . . we won't be able to heal  
him until the curse is lifted. That is one of the reasons this curse is known as one of the worst that  
Voldemort came up with."  
  
"What do you mean *one*?"   
  
"The curse . . . it cannot be lifted by just anyone . . . It must be lifted by the person who  
placed it on them in the first place. This means, if Harry is hurt, we must find the Death Eater who  
placed it on them, and he must take it off himself."  
  
Sirius, by this time was on the edge of his seat, ready to go and rescue Harry right away.  
But there were still questions he wanted answered, and he knew he couldn't get into the Dursley's  
house for at least five hours. "But I don't get it. Why are there red rings around their eyes? I don't  
know of any other curses leaving side effects besides what they are supposed to do in the first  
place."  
  
"All of Voldemort's curses left some kind of side effect. That is what happens when a  
curse is invented. Curses that don't leave trademarks are natural curses. They come from magic  
itself, they have always existed. Unnatural curses always leave trademark signs, and some of them  
are quite unpleasant. Some of the side effects of the curses were worse than the curses  
themselves."  
  
"Why do I not know about these curses? If You-Know-Who invented them when he came into  
power, shouldn't I know about them? I *was* around then."  
  
"These curses were very deadly, and dangerous, but not perfected until very near the date  
when Voldemort's attack on the Potters. No one dared use them after Voldemort's downfall, for  
fear of being associated with him and sent to Azkaban."  
  
"Alright." Sirius closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me what to do,  
and I'm there."  
  
"Why don't we go to my office. You can floo over to Arabella's, and I will send help. You  
can think up a plan while you are waiting for the charm on Harry's house to wear off."  
  
They went to Dumbledore's office, and without a word, Sirius picked up some floo  
powder and threw it into the fire. "Arabella Figg's!"  
  
Once Sirius had left, Dumbledore had to smile. That man loved his godson so much that  
he hadn't even asked who Dumbledore was sending. Dumbledore know that Sirius trusted him,  
but what if he had sent someone who would send him right back to Azkaban? He was glad that  
Sirius could trust him enough to know he wouldn't do such a thing.  
  
He also didn't ask if Arabella knew of his innocence, which she thankfully did. She insisted  
she know everything about Harry if she was going to watch over him. She didn't want to hex  
anyone who didn't deserve it.  
  
Dumbledore now only had five minutes to take down the charm and get Sirius help. He  
took out his wand and said a few choice words. That was one of the reasons he liked this charm. It  
allowed him to place it and take it off without apparating all the way sown to Harry's.   
  
He then picked up some powder, and threw it in the fire and yelled "Remus Lupin!"  
  
Remus's head appeared in the fire as Dumbledore thought to himself how lucky he was  
that Remus was even near a fireplace. "Remus, I trust you are not busy . . ."  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Sirius landed on his knees in Arabella Figg's living room. He never would get used to the  
floo system. He stood up and began dusting himself off.  
  
"Sirius Black, you are getting soot all over my clean carpet!"  
  
He looked up to see a smiling Arabella Figg watching him from the doorway. "Sorry." He  
mumbled.  
  
"It's alright." She flicked her wand and the soot flew out of the carped and back into the  
chimney. "It happens all the time. I should have known Dumbledore would send you. I thought it  
was going to be one of the professors. Don't know why I couldn't just go myself, but you always  
do what Dumbledore says, right?"  
  
He smiled back at her. "Right." Just then, someone else came out of the fireplace, much  
more gracefully than Sirius had. Sirius stared in shock.  
  
"Moony? I haven't seen you for ages! I didn't know Dumbledore was sending you!"  
  
"Well, who were you expecting, Minister Fudge? Or maybe a Dementor?"  
  
"I . . ." Sirius was cut off by being pulled int a hug by the remaining marauder.   
  
"I'd hate to interrupt this happy reunion, but would anyone like some tea? We need to  
figure out what you are going to do."  
  
"What *are* we doing, exactly?" Asked Lupin.  
  
"What, you mean? Dumbledore didn't tell you?" Sirius was surprised that Dumbledore  
would send Remus without telling him what was happening.  
  
"He didn't exactly have time. All he said was that he had to go to the ministry soon, and  
that I should floo here, because you needed my help. He said you would explain it to me."  
  
With that they went to the kitchen, and Sirius, with the help of Arabella, filled Remus in on  
'what exactly he was doing' there, as they waited anxiously for the five hours to end.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Harry awoke to find everything completely dark. He moaned and tried to get up, but his  
head seemed to be weighing him down. He turned onto his side and saw a very familiar sight. He  
has stared at this wall every night for ten years while he tried to fall asleep. He was back in the  
cupboard.  
  
He didn't remember much about the last couple of days, but he figured that he had fallen  
asleep or passed out in his room, and one of the Dursley's must have taken him down here. He  
tried to move again, and he felt fire rip through his head and chest. He moaned again but it caught  
in his throat and he began to cough. The cough rattled in his chest and burned his throat.  
  
"Great. Just what I need is to catch Dudley's cold now. As if this wasn't enough . . ." He  
thought. Just breathing was making his throat hurt, and he couldn't help but think of how fast he  
had caught it. Maybe it was from him already being weak.   
  
Something he couldn't understand was how much he hurt. He hadn't been beaten hard  
enough to prevent him from sitting up. Yeah, it hurt like nobody's business, but he had been under  
the crutiatus before - the most painful curse in the world - and he had been able to move.   
  
He reached up to the doorknob and wasn't surprised to find that it was locked. Why not?  
Of course the Dursley's couldn't look over just one little thing. He began to cough even harder  
than he did before. He tried to stop it. He didn't know where the Dursleys were, but he didn't  
want them to know he was awake. The harder he tried not to cough, however, the worse the urge  
seemed to be. Finally he couldn't hold it in and it burst out, incredibly painful and sending shoots  
of fire all over his chest. He heard footsteps descending the stairs above him. Well, at least he  
could always tell when Vernon was coming. Just listen for the heavy footsteps.  
  
The door to the cupboard rattled as it was unlocked. Finally, it flew open, and there was a  
steaming Vernon Dursley in a pair of blue and white striped pajamas.  
  
"You, once again. WE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP UP THERE! How is anyone supposed  
to sleep with you making that infernal racket, boy! We need our sleep, especially Dudley! How  
dare you!" With that, he reached in the cupboard and lifted Harry out by the front of his shirt. He  
picked Harry off the ground and threw him against the wall. "I thought you would have learned  
your lesson by now, you foolish delinquent!"   
  
Harry barely heard what Vernon was saying to him. He had hit his head against the wall,  
right where Petunia had struck him with the hockey stick, and there were stars dancing all over his  
uncle's face. He felt a foot slam against his chest, and wondered why it felt like Vernon was  
wearing steal toed boots instead of slippers. The foot connected again, and Harry felt a snap inside  
his chest.  
  
Suddenly he could barely breathe. He coughed again and felt a trickle of blood roll down  
his chin. He coughed so hard that he wouldn't have been shocked if a lung came up one of these  
times. Vernon payed no attention to his nephew, now bleeding all over the floor. All he knew was  
that he hated this *creature* and he had to hurt it.   
  
Harry felt his wrist snap when Vernon pulled him up off the floor. He dared to look at it. It was  
the same hand that he had burned earlier. It was hanging at an odd angle, completely useless. His  
entire body seemed to be wrenched in a vice of stabbing pain. Vernon pushed him against the wall,  
banging his head again and again, making more noise than when Harry had been coughing and had  
woken Vernon in the first place.   
  
Harry's head hit the wall one last time. He felt himself being shoved into the cupboard before   
everything went black once more.  
  
  
  
* * *   
  
  
  
Sirius looked at the muggle-style clock for what must have been the thousandth time in the  
past four and a half hours. He couldn't get an image of Harry's face battered and eyes open in a  
death stare out of his head. Remus and Arabella tried to tell him that it wasn't his fault, but he  
couldn't help but feel that everything bad in Harry's life was because of him. If Harry died, he  
didn't know what he would do. Of course, there was a chance that Harry wasn't injured badly at  
all, but with every passing minute, Sirius felt his panic building until it threatened to overtake him.  
All he knew was that he *had* to get Harry out of there, and yet he still had a half an hour wait.  
  
After he and Remus figured out their plan, they had sat at the kitchen table, listening to  
Arabella tell stories about Harry when he was younger and she would babysit him. She told them  
of the look Harry always had when he came over, kind of like he was dreading something. She  
said that she would show him pictures of her cats to relax him, but that seemed to make it worse.  
Remus and Sirius burst out laughing and Remus gently told her that it was her cat pictures that  
Harry was dreading in the first place.  
  
They had sat in silence for the last half an hour, having run out of things to say. Sirius  
himself was lost in memories of Harry as a baby. Remus was thinking of his brief stint as Harry's  
professor. Arabella was thinking of her cats, and other times when she had babysat Harry.   
  
Sirius counted down the last twenty minutes before they left in his head. The clock seemed  
to slow down, even go backwards, whenever he watched it. Finally it was time to go.   
  
They made sure they had their wands. The three of them left the house together. Arabella  
insisted on going along, and waiting outside incase anything happened and she had to get help, or  
hold off the ministry until Sirius escaped. They walked down the street and stopped in front of an  
empty lot that Arabella assured them was Harry's house.  
  
The three of them stood there, waiting for the charm to wear off. Just five more minutes,  
and they could go get Harry.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Thank y'all (yes, I actually say y'all. No, I am not a hick.) so much for the reviews. I don't think  
that there are any questions that I can answer here, because the answers are either in the chapter,  
or would ruin the plot (and frankly, I can't remember any of them.)  
  
There will probably be more of a wait between chapters from now on, even though I know that I  
don't exactly post every day, but I am not really satisfied with the last two chapters, and I want to  
spend more time on them rather than just pop them out as soon as they're done. I don't like getting  
stuck in plot-holes. Not fun.   
  
Soon I think I am going to do a little section where I thank all you beautiful reviewers. You make  
me so happy! If I do that, it will be later though. Not right now cause I'm too lazy to actually look  
up all the reviewers.   
  
Toodles.  
  
~Avidia~ 


	5. Leaving a Trying Situation

A/N: I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!!! I didn't really mean to take so long posting!!! I  
know I said it would be a longer wait, but I didn't think It would be that long. I claim sanctuary,  
though! I have an excuse! Two words: Research Paper. Five more words: Two ten minute oral  
reports. Not to mention reading a play and doing a theme analysis over it, and reading a novel. I  
hate English class!   
  
  
I e-mailed everyone who asked me. I will e-mail anyone who wants me to when I get new chapters  
out, but if you already asked me, I will not do it unless you ask again. No, I am not fishing for  
reviews! I swear! But if you no longer wish me to e-mail you and I keep doing it, it wastes a lot of  
time. If you know you want an e-mail for every chapter from now on, then tell me in a review, and  
you don't have to worry about it.   
  
  
Someone asked me if Snape was going to be in the story. (I think it was Abby, but I'm not sure.  
Sorry if I'm wrong. I'm too lazy to look it up at the moment). I wasn't planning on it,  
but the more I think about it, the more I like it! I think I will have to find a place for our favorite  
Potions Master in here. He won't be in this chapter, though. Oh, great . . . here come the plot  
bunnies . . .  
  
Disclaimer: I own one shirt, some socks and some pants,  
I own two dogs, a hermit crab and three plants.  
And though I am a shameless plotter,  
I must say I do not own Harry Potter!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
  
NORMAL  
Chapter Five  
  
  
  
Twenty seconds . . . just twenty seconds, and Harry's house would appear, and he would  
have his godson. . . Just fifteen seconds and the sweet little boy that she used to babysit would be  
out of danger . . . Ten seconds. Just ten seconds and his former student and best friend's son  
would be free of whatever hell he might be going through.   
  
No matter how they comforted themselves, they just couldn't get it out of their heads that  
even after they rescued Harry, they would have a long road ahead of them. They had to find   
whoever cursed the Dursleys, and somehow make the person who did it take it off of them, and  
only then could they heal whatever wounds Harry might have. Easier said than done. None of  
them had voiced their concerns, but they knew that they were all thinking the same thing: How  
were they going to find who placed the curse? They had no leads, except that it was a Death Eater.  
That was about as helpful as trying to find a rare flower and the only thing that you knew about it  
was that it grew from the ground.  
  
Five seconds. To Arabella there was no noticeable change to the area, but Remus and Sirius  
could see a faint shimmer, almost like a glittering fog, beginning to manifest on the grassy lot. The  
fog become clearer, and began to take the shape of a ghostly-looking house. One second . . . and  
the once vacant area, now had a solid house sitting on it.  
  
Sirius and Remus looked at the house for a moment. Somehow, they had expected it to  
look different. It should reflect on the outside what they knew was going on in the inside. It should  
be run down and dilapidated, perhaps with dead flowers or maybe a starved, ferocious dog  
chained to the porch. But in no way had they expected this. Number four Privet Drive looked  
completely. . .well . . . normal.  
  
They were brought out of their thoughts by Arabella. "Well, are you going to just stand  
there all night, or are you going to go in and get that boy? You don't have tome to lollygag!"  
  
"Right, we're going. Remus, you have your wand ready?" Sirius hadn't seen his wand  
since he was put into Azkaban. Remus held it up. "Good. Let's go."  
  
They quickly jogged to the door, staying in the grass so they wouldn't make any noise. Sirius  
tried the door, and finding it was locked, nodded to Remus. Remus waited for Sirius to step out of  
the way, raised his wand, and whispered "Alohomora." They heard the lock click open. Sirius  
once again twisted the knob, and they stepped inside.   
  
The first thing they noticed was the smell. There was a faint, but still horrible smell floating  
around of burned paper. Sirius turned to Remus and mouthed "Upstairs." They practically tiptoed  
up the wooden stairs, careful to test each step with a tiny bit of weight to be sure there were no  
creaks before fully stepping on it.   
  
They reached the top of the landing and saw five doors along the hallway. One had a  
beautifully carved wooden hanging on it reading "Dudley's Room". Defiantly not it. They each  
went to separate doors and put their ears up to them. Sirius heard deep snoring from behind one,  
and mouthed to Remus "Not this one, either." Remus nodded. It had to be one of the three left.  
He opened the door, and saw a bathroom. He went to the next and quietly opened it. It was a plain  
room, with a double bed and a nice comforter. It didn't look like anyone lived in it. Remus  
assumed it was a guest room. Only one door left.  
  
Sirius stood in front of the door. Remus saw his hand waver a bit as he turned the knob.  
He pushed the door open softly, but something was blocking it. He pushed harder, and whatever  
was there was pushed away. The room was pitch black. Remus lifted his wand and whispered  
"Lumos."  
  
This *couldn't* be Harry's room. No, Harry was not this messy. There were broken toys  
everywhere. The shadows cast by the light of the wand made everything appear creepy. A large  
decapitated doll head grinned mockingly at them. A stuffed dinosaur that was missing two legs  
bared it's fangs.  
  
Sirius whispered to Remus "I don't think this is it. Look, there isn't even a bed." But Remus had  
found something that proved differently.  
  
"Look, Sirius." He said, stepping across the room. "It has to be. This is his trunk . . .and  
this has to be Hedwig's cage . . .and those are Hogwarts robes." He pointed to Harry's makeshift  
bed. "Just, Harry's not here. Where do you think he is, Sirius?" But Sirius didn't answer. He was  
staring at something in the corner of the room. "Sirius? What . . ." He didn't have to finish. Sirius  
picked up what looked like a stick and held it out to him. He put the light from his wand close to it  
and felt his stomach drop to his knees. The stick had blood on it. It was dried blood, but it was still  
obviously blood.  
  
Sirius took the stick back and threw it across the room, where it crashed to the floor."Remus,  
you pack up Harry's things. I'm going downstairs." Remus wanted to look for Harry, also, but he  
knew that look Sirius was giving him. You don't spend seven years being someone's best friend  
and not know how they look when they are angry. Sirius hurriedly left the room and Remus could  
hear him stomping down the stairs, louder than before, not caring if he woke anyone up.   
  
Remus had half a mind to tell him to be quiet, but somehow he couldn't. Maybe it was the  
fact that he was almost wishing the Dursleys would wake up, so he could teach them to mess with  
his best friends son. He didn't care if they were under a curse, they still had to have hated Harry  
for the curse to have made them hurt him.  
  
Remus quickly decided that there was no way, especially with Sirius in such a mood, that they  
were going to get out without waking the Dursleys, and no matter how much he would like to  
curse them for himself, he really didn't think that would be the best idea at the moment. He went  
to the two rooms and cast a sleeping spell on them, surprised that they were still asleep after all the  
racket Sirius had caused. The spell would last for about half an hour, and make them sleep through  
anything.   
  
Remus went back to Harry's room. As he passed the stairway, he heard a pounding, as if  
someone was shaking a closed door. He practically ran into the room, and scooped up Harry's  
robes, throwing them into the trunk.  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
Sirius reached the bottom of the stairs, and looked around, not sure what to do or where to  
look. What he really wanted to do was hit something. Half of him told him to go upstairs and hex  
the pants off the Dursleys, and the other half of him wanted him to find his godson. The latter won  
by a landslide. He turned to go to the kitchen, when he heard a faint whimper. He stopped  
breathing, fearing he wouldn't be able to hear it again.   
  
There it was again, followed by a cough. A very small cough, as if someone was trying to hold  
it in, and it was coming from right next to him. He looked around, and all that was there was a  
small cupboard door. He looked to the other side, and his breath caught in his throat. The only  
visible light was moonlight, but there, once again was that unmistakable red substance. He fumbled  
the walls for a light switch, and finding one, flicked it on with rapidly numbing fingers.  
  
It was smeared on the walls, and a small pool of it was on the floor. There was a small, red  
hand print on the otherwise spotless molding near the floor. He touched it with a shaking hand. It  
was still wet.  
  
He heard the whimper again, sounding as if it was in pain. Having no doubts about who it was,  
he launched himself at the cupboard door. It took him several seconds of pulling at the handle,  
pounding and shaking it, before he saw the lock. He unlocked the door, and threw it open.  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
He had woken up to the sound of the front door opening. He heard two pairs of feet  
quietly shuffling to the stairs. He knew that these feet couldn't possibly belong to the Dursleys.  
They would never bother to be quiet if he was the only one they had to worry about waking. He  
had no idea who these people could be. They could be neighbors, but why would they be going  
upstairs? If they were friends of Dudley's, they would most likely be doing the exact opposite and  
making as much noise as they possibly could.  
  
He heard them ascending the stairs, almost as if they were moving in slow motion.  
Every time a creak was heard, it immediately stopped, and he heard shuffling to find a new, silent  
spot. He was becoming more positive by the second that someone was breaking in.  
  
He listened, trying not to breathe and make himself begin coughing again, and he heard three  
doors opening quietly, one after the other. He could hear faint whispers, but he couldn't make out  
the words. Then there was quiet, and out of nowhere a crash, followed by heavy thuds on the  
stairs.  
  
They were short, angry sounding thumps on every step. This had to be Vernon.   
Maybe he thought that Harry had caused the crash and woke him up again. All he could think was  
that he had to hide. The only problem was that there was nowhere to go in the small cupboard.  
  
He rolled over and faced the wall, and whimpered at the jarring of his ribs.. He felt a  
strong tickle in his throat, but held it in all he could. A small cough escaped him, though, and he  
cringed at a metallic taste in the back of his throat. He carefully bent his knees up to his chest. He  
could hardly breathe, but that was much better than Vernon thinking he had caused more  
problems. He bit his bottom lip and moaned as he used his left hand to lift the burned and broken  
right from under him.  
  
Suddenly, the door was shaking. Vernon was juggling the handle, as if he forgot he had  
locked it. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that his uncle would leave him alone. He heard  
the lock click, and through his closed eyelids, he could see a bright light pouring over his face.  
  
He put one hand over his eyes; The light had caused a splitting headache. The urge to cough  
was growing stronger, and feeling like there was something alive in his lungs, fighting to be  
released, he decided that if Vernon was going to beat him anyway, he might as well cough. The  
moment after he started, though, he felt Vernon's hand lay softly on his shoulder. That couldn't be  
right. The hand felt almost . . .comforting? He felt blood trickle down his chin and coughed even  
harder. A gentle finger wiped it away. He paused to take a few deep breaths, and Vernon lifted  
him from the cupboard, and laid him down gently on the floor in the hallway.  
  
Suddenly, something was caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He began coughing again,  
trying to clear his throat, but it only got worse. He wheezed and gasped, and heard a faint, far  
away voice say "Harry? Harry!?" His name was repeated over and over. Each time it sounded  
more desperate. He coughed again, weakly. Breathing in, he felt only a minuscule amount of air  
enter, not even filling his lungs. He opened his eyes slightly, but quickly snapped them shut.  
Everything was blurry, making him feel queasy.   
  
Then there was someone else there. He felt the vibrations of the floor underneath him as the  
person knelt by his side. Vernon was saying something to this other person.  
"Moony . . . can't breathe . . . what do we do?" Moony? Who was Moony? Certainly not Aunt  
Petunia. He felt large hands press on his chest, jostling his broken rib. He couldn't hold it in. He let  
out a pain filled scream as the fire consumed him once again. The scream was cut short, however.  
He could no longer could breathe at all. There was a liquid feeling in his throat and his chest, as if  
he had inhaled water.  
  
The first voice whispered to the other. "Have to get him out of here . . . wake them . . . can't  
fight now. . . have to go!" Harry could barely hear the voices; there was a ringing in his ears.  
  
"It's ok . . .cast. . .sleeping spell . . .won't hear." Harry felt himself going limp. He  
needed air, but try as he might, it refused to enter his lungs. Someone shook his shoulders, and  
yelled his name again. The shaking got worse, and his head flopped back and forth, but he had no  
longer had any power over his muscles.  
  
The shaking stopped abruptly. He heard a third, feminine voice from far above him. "Don't . .  
.You have to . . . on his side . . ." There were hands on his shoulders, himself being turned  
on his side, and the voice of "Moony" came through the thick fog in his brain.   
  
"Now what?"   
  
Harry didn't hear the reply, but felt a gentle tapping on his back. The urge to cough grew  
again, and he heard a voice telling him to breathe. *Begging* him to breathe. The tapping became  
stronger, and he started coughing again. But this time, the blockage in his throat unsettled itself,  
and he felt warm liquid fill up his mouth and spill down his chin, and a voice above him say  
"Choking. . .blood . . . have to keep him sideways . . .can't get it out." When he finally stopped  
coughing, he took several deep, shaky breaths. His lungs tickled, but not nearly as badly as they  
had before. He felt himself get a little dizzy, and he grabbed the wrist of whoever had begun  
wiping up his chin with a soft cloth.  
  
The voices were becoming clearer, and he could tell that whoever the first man was, it was  
*not* Vernon. "He felt his hair being stroked, and pushed off his sweaty forehead. "It's going to  
be all right. You're going to be ok, I promise."  
  
Harry let go of the wrist and lazily opened his heavy eyelids. His vision was a little more  
focused. He looked up to the man he had thought was Vernon. The stranger had tears running  
down his cheeks from his wide, red eyes. and his gaunt face very pale. His black hair fell around  
his face like a tangled wig.  
  
Harry's turned his attention to the other two who were surrounding him. One was an old  
woman, with kind but frightened eyes, who smiled when she saw him looking at her. The other  
was a man who had brown hair, with wisps of grey. His face looked old and tired, but he too,  
looked kind. Harry looked back to the man with black hair. He stared for a few moments until, and  
the man asked him if he was ready to get out of there. Harry's brow furrowed, and he looked  
around the group once again, and asked "Who are you?"   
  
  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius was extremely relieved when Harry began breathing again. He was glad that Moony had  
cast a sleeping charm on the Dursleys, because otherwise they surely would have awakened and  
caused them even more problems. He was so shocked when Harry asked them who they were that  
he had forgotten to breathe himself.  
  
When Harry had stopped breathing, he had been sure that he would lose his godson. He  
didn't know what else to besides shake him and try to make him snap out of it. Arabella had  
heard Harry's screams, and made the decision to come in, even if it got her in trouble. She knew  
basic first aid, and luckily knew what to do.   
  
Harry coughed up mouthfuls of blood. Remus pulled out one of Harry's old robes and  
handed it to Sirius, who then wiped the blood off his godson's chin. Harry looked around at them.  
They were all expecting a warm greeting, or at least a smile, but never what they had gotten.  
  
"Who are you?" How could Harry not know who they were? What was going on?  
  
He looked at his companions, not knowing what to do. Arabella whispered to him that  
they had to leave. They could work out the problems at Hogwarts, they had to go before Harry  
had any more problems. Sirius put his arms beneath Harry's thin frame, and lifted him up like a  
small child.   
  
At the sudden movement that he obviously wasn't expecting, Harry screamed again. The  
scream grated against Sirius, and tore at his heart. It might as well have come from himself. He  
looked at Remus, who nodded, understanding what Sirius wanted. He lifted his wand, pointed it at  
Harry, who had buried his head against Sirius's chest, and was now whimpering in pain in his  
arms and said "Stupefy!"  
  
Sirius felt Harry go limp; his head lolled back and his arms and legs hung pointlessly. They left  
the house, Arabella turning off the light, and Remus floating Harry's trunk behind him.  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Hee Hee. I don't think this is really a cliffhanger, but I just wanted to say that because  
*clears throat and says in a singsong voice* I know what's going to happen and you don't  
*Continues singing like an annoying kid until people throw stuff at her* Thanks for reading, thanks  
for reviewing (if you do).   
  
I know the HarryTorture is a little excessive . . . but that's the way I like it! (SHAMELESS PLUG  
ALERT! SHAMELESS PLUG ALERT!) I have a favor to ask of you lovely reviewers. If you  
know of a good HarryTorture story, or if you have one, tell me! I am having trouble finding new  
ones, and I want to see if I've read them all, or if I am just looking in the wrong places.   
  
Toodles,  
  
  
  
~Avidia~ 


	6. Doctors and Concussions

-A/N: Hello, everyone. Becha thought I was dead, huh? I'm sorry it took so long, but I have  
legitimate excuses! Excuses in the plural! Multiple excuses that aren't my usual "I had school  
work!" I'll tell you in the author note at the end of the chapter. From now on I am trying to limit  
myself to only one author note per chapter. Wait . . . no. . .from next chapter on because this is an  
author note, isn't it? Well, catch ya on the flip side! (Cannot believe I just said . . .er . . . typed  
that).  
  
Oh yeah, one more thing. !!!!!!!PLEASE READ THIS!!!!!!! I have been looking and looking for  
information on concussions and all I can find are symptoms. I know very little about them and I  
heard some things along the line (couldn't tell you where) I found absolutely no information on  
treatment so if anyone knows anything please tell me! I sorta made up what I have so I may have  
to pretend that concussions on wizards are different than muggles but I don't want to cuz that's  
just silly and I'm babbling and that's really sad considering I'm typing and I'll shut up or else the  
author notes will be longer than the story. *breathe*  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I used to wish I did, but now, I don't. Think of all the  
pressure J.K Rowling must be under. Writing all of those books, deadlines, trying to make each  
book better than the last, hate mail from religious groups, relatively new fame, movies of your  
books, raising a young daughter, interviews, articles, hardly any privacy, etc. You get the idea. I  
do my best work under pressure, but still, that much might cause just a *teeny* amount of stress.  
Maybe it's just me.   
  
On with the show! Seriously this time!  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
NORMAL  
Chapter Six  
  
  
The quartet arrived at Hogwarts to find it completely silent and apparently empty. It was rather  
eerie, for they had only seen it filled to the brim with gabbing students and scolding professors.  
They tumbled out of Dumbledore's fireplace one after another, Sirius clutching Harry protectively  
as to not bump or jar his bruised limbs, and Remus with Harry's trunk still trailing behind him.  
Seeing that Dumbledore was gone on his meeting with Fudge, Arabella led them in a single file to  
the hospital wing.   
  
When they reached their destination, Sirius burst through the doors and called out from habit  
"Madame Pomfrey!" He didn't wait for an answer from the nurse, and in two large strides was  
placing Harry gently on the nearest bed, careful not to hurt him.  
  
"Madame Pomfrey is in Sweden. Some convention or something. She won't be back until  
August." Remus informed them as Sirius pushed Harry onto his side, not wanting a repeat of what  
happened in the hallway of number four. He pulled the clean, white sheets from another bed and  
draped them over the unmoving form of his godson. He then pulled a chair up to the side of  
Harry's bed, and sat there, watching the pale face for any signs of distress.  
  
They stood in silence for a few minutes before Arabella decidid to speak up. "I know you won't  
like this, Sirius, but I think it is in Harry's best interest that we take him to St. Mungo's. We can't  
do anything for him here."  
  
"What!?"   
  
"I don't know that much about first aid or nursing and I *know* you don't know anything.  
He needs care that we just can't give him here!"  
  
"You are not taking him out of my sight! I won't allow it!" Sirius jumped up from his  
chair, and rounded on the elderly witch.  
  
"Right now he needs a doctor! Not his godfather! I know you love him, but what help will  
that be if he chokes to death? Or gets an infection? He needs constant care, and you can't give him  
that right now!"  
  
"The hell I can't! If you take him to St. Mungo's, there really is nothing I can do for him."  
His voice became quieter, his eyes pleading. "You can't ask that of me. I cannot see him at all if  
you take him there. Please. I can't do that. He needs me, I know he does."  
  
Remus watched the two argue, and even though he never thought it possible, he knew Sirius  
was right. "Arabella, I believe you should listen to Sirius. Don't you remember what Dumbledore  
said about the curse? Harry cannot be healed until the curse is off the Dursleys. No amount of  
hospital care or qualified doctors will be able help him. It is probably best for Harry to stay here,  
with people he trusts." He looked at Harry, who's only sign of life was the unsteady rise and fall of  
his chest, and occasional coughing. "He must have been so scared." He said almost to himself. "I  
think rightnow he needs his godfather more than anything."  
  
Arabella looked back and forth between the two men, and seeing Remus's slight nod, and  
Sirius's chin jut in triumph, sighed her defeat. "Alright, but I still think he needs a doctor. At least  
one who could set his wrist and check for other problems."  
  
"No problem. I am good friends with a retired doctor who used to work at St. Mungo's.  
And, as an added bonus, he knows all about Sirius. I'm sure he'd be willing to help." Remus said.  
  
Sirius, who had returned to his chair, asked "Dr. Rhymon?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Who is Dr. Rhymon? Why does he know about Sirius?"  
  
"Dr. Rhymon has been our doctor since before we can remember. James and Peter's, too. He  
delivered all four of us, and Harry as well. He specializes in pediatrics, but I have been seeing him  
for my. . . er . . . *monthly problem* since I was bitten when I was a child. He's a great doctor,  
even if he is rather old. I explained to him about Sirius's situation after a rather rough night about a  
year ago, and he understood. He said that he always knew Sirius was a troublemaker, but he didn't  
think him capable of killing anyone, especially his best friend."  
  
"Well, okay, then. I guess that will work. How soon can you get him here?"  
  
"He lives in Hogsmeade, so it won't be difficult to reach him, but if he's not at home I  
don't know if there's anything we can do. Like I said, he's rather old, and has a tendency to become  
a bit forgetful. Sometimes he has trouble remembering where he lives."  
  
"What?! How is a doctor who can't even remember where he lives going to be of any  
help? How old is he?"  
  
"Well, I told you that he delivered us, and well, I wouldn't be surprised if he delivered  
Dumbledore as well. But don't worry. He has his good days and his bad days, luckily the good  
outnumber the bad." Remus watched Arabella with a smirk. If the circumstances were different,  
he would have laughed at her impeccable impersonation of a goldfish.  
  
She sighed heavily. "Just - just go. Just get a doctor. Whatever you can get is fine." Harry  
began coughing heavily. Sirius patted his back. Arabella found a plastic bowl on the  
bedside table and held it beneath Harry's chin. He was now semi-conscious, enough to spit out the  
blood that was filling his mouth. Remus stared at the scene before him for several seconds before  
Arabella turned back to him and yelled "Hurry, Remus!" He remembered that he was supposed to  
be finding Dr. Rhymon, and raced to Madame Pomfrey's office to use her fireplace.  
  
It was several minutes before Harry finished coughing, although he didn't cough up nearly  
as much blood as he had before. He was now awake, staring blankly at Sirius and Arabella. His  
eyes were unfocused, and Sirius didn't think that it was from his lack of glasses. They were  
clouded and watery.  
  
"Hey, junior. How you feeling?" He picked up Harry's left hand, first making sure that it  
wasn't the burned and broken one.   
  
Harry pushed his eyebrows together in thought. He seemed to be taking assessment of his  
injuries, and finally came up with simply "Hurts."  
  
"I know, buddy. Don't worry, you're going to be just fine. We are going to be right here  
with you until you get better. I promise."  
  
Harry licked his dry, cut lips. "Siri- who. . . that you? What . . .?"  
  
Sirius looked up at Arabella, who was standing at the end of the bed, watching the  
conversation. She had an idea. "Harry, Can you turn over on your stomach, please?"  
  
He whimpered and buried the side of his face into the pillow. "Come on Harry, do what  
she asks, please." Harry nodded, but made no move to turn. Sirius put his hands on his bony  
shoulders and pushed him over slowly. He bit back a shocked cry when he saw the back of Harry's  
head. There was a wound that he hadn't seen before. It looked to be a few days old, with dried  
blood clotting in his hair. He didn't understand how he could have possibly missed such a wound  
earlier, but then again, there had been more important matters to see to.  
  
"That's what I thought," Said Arabella, biting her bottom lip. "Harry, how did you get this  
wound on your head?" Harry mumbled something into the pillows. "What? I didn't hear you."  
  
Harry turned his head to the side carefully and said "Dunno. . .can't remember. Who- who are  
you. . . "  
  
"Mrs. Figg, Harry." Harry closed his eyes and murmured incoherently, snuggling back into the  
pillow. "Harry, are you tired?" He nodded once. "I'm sorry to have to ask this of you, but you  
can't go to sleep. You have to stay awake, at least until the doctor gets here." He ignored her and  
began drifting. She grabbed his shoulders, turned him back over, and said "Did you  
hear me? You *cannot* go to sleep. Not now. Stay awake! Harry!" She slapped his cheek when  
his eyes began closing.  
  
Sirius watched in rising horror as the normally gentle witch shook and hit his injured godson.  
He pulled her away from him and growled "What do you think you're doing? Did you decide he  
wasn't hurt enough? He's been through a lot. Let him sleep!" He held her by her tightly by her  
wrists, not trusting her to stop abusing Harry.  
  
"No, Sirius! You don't understand! He can't go to sleep! I think he has a concussion."  
  
He let go of her, and looked at Harry. "A what? Harry has a what? Is that some kind of  
disease?" Arabella scowled at the lack of knowledge Sirius had about even basic first aid.  
  
"A concussion. It is caused when there is severe trauma to the head. The brain is protected  
from injury by the skull, right? It also has a fluid that acts like a cushion. When there is brain  
injury, the soft tissue of the brain bounces off the hard skull. That can ruin nerve endings or break  
blood vessels. It also causes bruising or even swelling of the brain, and results in amnesia,  
confusion, disorientation, vision problems and loss of consciousness." She recited from memory.  
  
Sirius gaped at her for a moment before speaking. "I thought you knew a *little* about first aid.  
Did you memorize the manual or something? Try it once again, in English this time."  
  
"I swear, once this is over, I am enrolling you in a first aid course. Alright, so a concussion  
is basically a bad head injury that causes the brain to swell or bruise, got it? This explains Harry's  
memory loss. A wound like that is almost defiantly a concussion."  
  
"Okay, so why can't he sleep?"  
  
"Because, if he does, he might never wake up. It's as simple as that. He could slip into a  
coma - you know what a coma is, right? Good - and be a vegetable the rest of his life, or die."  
  
"Oh." He sat down next to Harry's bed once more, an oddly calm look on his face. He leaned  
in close to Harry's face, looking at the drooping eyelids, and took a deep breath. "HARRY WAKE  
UP! YOU HAVE TO STAY UP!"  
  
Harry almost jumped out of the bed at Sirius's yell. He yelped in pain and grabbed his ribs  
as he lay back down. "DON"T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, HARRY JAMES POTTER!  
YOU ARE STAYING AWAKE EVEN IF I HAVE TO SING THE ENTIRE CATS MUSICAL  
RIGHT IN YOUR EAR!"  
  
Arabella laughed behind her hand. "Cats, Padfoot?"  
  
He blushed. "It was all I could think of."  
  
"Well, to save Harry *and* I from an unnecessary torture, I have a better idea. I bet Poppy  
has some pepper-upper potion in the store room. That will probably work better than Broadway  
shows."  
  
Sirius blushed even harder. "Good thinking. Although I could do 'The best of Andrew Lloyd  
Webber. . .' "   
  
Arabella went in the store room, and came out two minutes later, not only with a goblet of  
potion, but also a roll of gauze and a small jar. She set the items down on the table and lifted the  
goblet to Harry. Sirius held up Harry's head, careful to avoid the painful-looking wound, and  
Arabella attempted to pour the potion down his throat. Harry objected at first, but once the awful  
taste was overpowered by a new strength, he eagerly drank the entire cup.  
  
Once Harry had finished, they sat him up, leaning his back against the pillows. Arabella  
held up the jar and said at the questioning looks from her two companions "Burn ointment." She  
took Harry's hand, careful not to hurt his broken wrist, and began rubbing the cool white cream  
over Harry's throbbing burn. He tensed up as she rubbed over a particularly sensitive spot, and  
automatically regretted it. Every nerve seemed to have a spasm of pain, and his lungs protested the  
harsh breathing the pain caused, and choked him again.  
  
When the episode passed, Arabella began wrapping the gauze around the burned flesh,  
now gooey with the ointment.   
  
Sirius looked around the room, needing something to do. He didn't know a thing about  
medical care. Harry hadn't said a word since he had drank the potion, but Sirius could see the  
emerald eyes were a bit clearer, if still confused looking as he watched his hand being covered. He  
watched as Arabella wrapped Harry's hand, itching to do anything but sit there. "Is there anything  
I can do?"  
  
Arabella looked up at him and smiled, recognizing his need to be useful. "As a matter of  
fact there is. Come here, finish wrapping his hand." Sirius switched places with her as she went  
back to the store rooms. She came out with several rags and a brown bottle. She put them down  
and waited until Sirius finished.   
  
"Ok, this bottle is an antiseptic." She unscrewed the cap, and a strong smell of alcohol  
filled the room. She then took a rag and held it to the mouth as she poured out some of the  
contents. "Harry, this will hurt. It will sting for a few seconds, but after that is should go away.  
This will help so the cuts don't get infected." She began tapping it on a cut on his arm, and he  
hissed in pain, though he seemed- determined not to move and jar his ribs again.  
  
She finished with one cut, and handed the bottle and rag to Sirius. "I trust you can finish. I  
should owl Dumbledore, let him know we got Harry. I also think the Weasleys would like an  
update."   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Hello again. Miss me? First I must give a million dollars and a bag of chips to Sailor  
Capricorn. You were right! **blushing** I don't know how that happened. Pretty stupid mistake.  
Good eye, though. I don't think anyone else has noticed, or if they had they didn't say anything.  
(Now keep it quiet so no one else notices) * as everyone goes to my review page to see what I'm  
talking about*  
  
Yippee to my one-hundredth reviewer! Everyone repeat after me: Silverfish is awesome!  
Thanks for helping me out there by pushing reviews into the triple digits! I'm speechless. I never  
thought it would get so far so quickly! I have been telling myself that I'll be lucky if it reaches 100  
by the time I'm done, and look! I love you people! *gives computer big hug*  
  
Now on to my other excuses. Thanks to everyone who waited for not getting impatient with me  
and writing me a nasty review saying if I don't update soon they are going to send me a virus like  
some people do (who, me? *looks innocent*). First my dad and his friend decided  
to install a CD burner in the computer. Well Frick and Frack, the technological geniuses, did  
something screwy and messed up the computer. The Internet was inaccessible and the printer  
wouldn't work. I typed out the whole chapter and then found that I couldn't save, either! I was a  
little mad. Just a little. *smacks her father again* I'm getting over it. I had to wait a few days  
before I could type again.  
  
For those of you who live in Ohio and have noticed the . . .er . . .wonderful weather we've been  
getting. . .(for those of you who don't know, it was snowing. In May. It didn't snow almost all  
winter, and the second day of Spring, BANG! Snow!) Well there have been a lot of thunder and  
lightening storms, plus tornado warnings. (I was about a hundred yards from an F3 tornado that  
hit) As soon as it starts to rain, my parents are in here kicking me off the computer so it doesn't  
crash. (Our house has a bad habit of getting hit by lightening)  
  
The main reason I haven't posted was because of a close friend of mine. She was in a car accident  
that was her fault (she wasn't drunk or anything, she just lost control of the car). She caused a four  
car pileup that killed two people. She and her passenger, another friend of mine, lived, but they  
were in comas for awhile. The passenger is ok, but my friend who caused the accident has brain  
damage and is paralyzed. The doctors don't know yet if she is going to be able to walk again or  
how serious the brain damage is. That is why I haven't really felt like writing about someone being  
hurt for the last month or so. Please pray to whoever you believe in for her. Thanks.  
  
On a happier note, school is out, exams are over and I should be able to post quicker! I'm going to  
get a job, but that shouldn't be a problem because I usually write at night time. See y'all later!  
  
~Avidia~  
  
  
p.s. Sorry if there is anyone who asked to get an e-mail who may not have gotten one. I think I got  
everyone who asked. If I didn't feel free to yell at me and I'll publicly apologize. But if any rotten  
tomatoes come my way, I'm taking it back! 


	7. Dealing With the Devil

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue. Have a nice day :)  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
This is not an A/N! This is for everyone who can't remember what has happened so far because I  
took so long to post! So you don't have to go back and read the chapters to remember, which I  
know you don't want to do! Skip this if you do remember, cause then it's not important.  
  
Harry went back to the Dursleys after fourth year and was severely beaten by Uncle Vernon.  
Vernon, Petunia and Dudley burned his photo album and locked him in the cupboard. Harry had  
lost his glasses and Hedwig took them to the Weasleys, who contacted Dumbledore. Dumbledore  
contacted Arabella Figg, who is Harry's witch guardian. She went to the Dursleys and noticed they  
had red rings around their pupils. She went to Dumbledore, who went to Sirius and explained that  
they Dursleys were under the Temperament Curse, a curse developed by Voldemort to amplify  
feelings. Harry cannot be healed until the curse is taken off of the Durselys, by the person who  
cast it in the first place. Sirius, Remus and Arabella save Harry from the Dursleys and take him to  
Hogwarts, where currently there are no teachers. Harry has a concussion. Remus leaves to get a  
doctor and here we are. There, six chapters in a paragraph. Whew.  
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Normal  
Chapter Seven  
  
"Dr. Rhymon? Dr. Rhymon are you here?" Remus called through the partially opened  
door leading to Dr. Rhymon's clinic. Receiving no answer, he pushed the door open all the way  
and slowly stepped inside, closing the worn door behind him.  
  
Familiar surroundings greeted him as he entered. The shabby furniture and the dingy wooden  
floor with it's primordial area rug brought back an odd sense of nostalgia. Just being there brought  
memories of times he would have much rather forget, yet it also gave him a sense of relief, a  
feeling that although you walked in this place at the worst of times, you always came out with a  
clean slate. The musty, earthy smell of potions and medicines permeated the room. It felt to him  
like the comforting smell of a treasured place, maybe a grandparent's house or favorite getaway,  
where you knew everything was going to be alright. It was an unlikely haven that made Remus feel  
like a child again.  
  
He knew that a large part of that feeling came from Dr. Rhymon himself, whom Remus  
had always considered almost as a grandfather and defiantly a mentor. In fact, Dr. Rhymon  
reminded him of Dumbledore. A bit mad, a bit goofy, but all in all a wonderful, brilliant person.  
He was ancient, possibly older than Dumbledore, but he moved with the vigor of a ninty year old.   
  
Dr. Rhymon had been Remus's doctor since before he could remember. He lived in the  
upstairs quarters of his small two room office, and as far as Remus was concerned, he had most  
likely lived there for at least a hundred years.  
  
Remus was jarred out of his memories when the door suddenly swung open so forcefully  
that it rebounded back and closed again. It began opening again, slower this time, and in walked a  
heavy man about Remus's height, with a head full of thick yet short grey hair, and small bifocals  
resting precariously on the end of his round nose.  
  
He walked straight past Remus, not acknowledging his presence. Remus heard a few  
mumblings about doors as the other set a few bags down on the counter.  
  
"Dr. Rhymon?" Remus said carefully, not wanting to startle him.  
  
The aged doctor swung around so quickly that his glasses did what they had been threatening to  
do and fell off his nose.  
  
"Who's there?" he questioned. He was blind without his glasses. "I don't have any patients  
today!" Fumbling back to the counter he picked something up and swung it around in front of  
himself like a wand. "I'm warning you! I'm armed!" Remus wasn't too worried about his threat  
considering Dr. Rhymon was holding a carrot.   
  
"Dr. Rhymon! It's me! Remus! Remember?"  
  
"Remember who? Speak up, boy!"  
  
"REMUS LUPIN!" He shouted. "You know. . . full moons . . . grrr . . .um, you know,  
you're only werewolf patient?"  
  
"Don't tell me to be patient! Who are you and what are you doing in my office?"  
  
Instead of trying to answer again, Remus instead picked the doctor's glasses up off the  
ground and plopped them back onto the wrinkled face. He waved a hand in front of the doctors  
eyes. His face immediately broke into a large smile.   
  
"Remus, my boy! Why didn't you say it was you? I could have cursed you!" He exclaimed,  
putting the carrot into the front of his robes. "Sorry about the less than welcome greeting. You  
know how things are these days."  
  
"Hi, Dr. Rhymon."  
  
"Bye? Where are you going? You just got here?"  
  
"Never mind." He yelled quickly. "I think you need to fix your hearing, again. Charm's  
wearing off." Dr. Rhymon had horrid hearing problems and would be completely deaf if he didn't  
fix his hearing magically. He guessed decades of working with screaming babies would do that to  
you. Every so often the charm would wear off and he would need to fix it, but being who he was,  
he would often forget.  
  
"Just a minute, son. I can't hear you. I think the charm is wearing off." He plucked the  
carrot back from inside his robes, pointed it at his head and said "Auditio!" Nothing happened.   
He shook the carrot in frustration, and noticing for the first time what it was, threw it onto the  
counter and picked up his wand. "Auditio." This time, mustard yellow sparks shot from the end of  
the wand and into his ears. He gave a little laugh. "Tingles," he explained.  
  
When the charm had done it's work, Dr. Rhymon seemed to realize that Remus was  
probably there for a reason. "So, what brings you here? Not the full moon already, is it?"  
  
"No, Dr. Rhymon. Actually. . ."  
  
"Remus," he interrupted. "You're not a child anymore. Far from it, I'd say. How many  
times have I told you to call me Kern?"  
  
"Sorry, I'm just not used to it Dr. Rhymon."  
  
"Kern. It's my name. I suggest you use it."  
  
"Right, er. . .Kern. I guess I'll get right down to it. Have you ever heard of the  
Temperament Curse?"  
  
The old man frowned and took off his glasses pinching the bridge of his nose and squinting  
his eyes shut. After several seconds he answered. "One of the worst curses I can remember that  
found it's way across my path. I never had many patients who were inflicted with the curse itself,  
but rather, their victims. . ." He trailed off, not wanting to finish. "But that curse hasn't been used  
in years, you know."  
  
Remus sighed. "I'm afraid we have another case. It was placed on some muggles. And not just  
any muggles. They know of our world and despise it. I'm sure you can guess the outcome of  
the curse. Especially on a wizard minor who was in their care."  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"Harry Potter." Kern visibly deflated after he heard that, his shoulders sagging and head  
bowing. Remus continued. "He is currently at Hogwarts, in quite a state. We - that is Sirius,  
Arabella and I - need you to come. Madame Pomfrey isn't there. We need a doctor who can help  
him."  
  
Another thing Remus liked about Dr. Rhy- ("no, Kern!") was that he was so  
understanding. He knew all about Sirius as well. During a very bad night last year,  
Remus had stumbled in during the early morning hours. Kern had been up and waiting for  
him, as he always was after a full moon. Battered and bruised, and quite delirious, Remus had told  
him all about his friend and their situation. Surprisingly, he had believed every word Remus said  
without question, saying he never believed that the kid he used to know could grow up to be a  
murderer.  
  
"Just lead the way. Let me get my bag." He grabbed an old-fashioned black leather  
doctor's bag from a cupboard, and followed Remus out the door. "I remember when Harry was  
born. Cute kid. Didn't cry, much. And how excited James and Lily were. I remember James as  
well. Fine fellow, he was, I miss him. Lily, of course, was a wonderful girl. Very pretty, and  
spunky. Those two, when they brought Harry in to me for check ups . . . they were amazing  
parents. Loved that kid more than any other parents I remember. They had such bright futures. . ."  
  
Remus thought for a moment how Kern was able to remember individual people who  
hadn't been to see him in fourteen years and yet he couldn't remember where he had lived for  
over a hundred. He didn't have time to dwell on the thought, as they reached the fireplace, and  
one after the other, flooed to Hogwarts.   
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
When the two men entered the hospital wing, they found Harry wide awake and staring at  
his arm, which was being wiped with a damp cloth by Sirius. Arabella was standing off to the  
side. As soon as she saw them, a vivid look of relief washed over her face.  
  
"I assume you are Dr. Rhymon?"  
  
They shook hands. "Yes. But call me Kern. And this," He said, turning to Harry who was  
watching him curiously. "Must be Harry. Can you tell me how you are feeling, Harry?" He moved  
to the other side of Harry's bed. Harry just shrugged his shoulders and looked away.  
  
As he began examining his patient, Arabella explained what they had done so far. "We are  
almost positive he has a concussion. He has a nasty wound on the back of his head. He's got a  
broken wrist, burns and several other bruises and lacerations all over. He keeps coughing up blood.  
He looks rather ill to me, also."  
  
Kern rummaged through his black bag, which was no larger than a woman's purse, although  
his arm went in almost up to the elbow. They heard some clinking and clinking of glass on glass as  
he murmured to himself. He finally pulled out a strange looking metal instrument, which they all  
knew and recognized from their many visits to wizard doctors. Harry, on the other hand was  
looking at the object warily.  
  
"Don't worry, son. It's just a thermometer. It's different than the ones you're used to, I  
know, but It still does the same thing. But it will also tell me what your illness is, and how to treat  
it. It's a standard procedure." He smiled warmly at Harry. "Now open your mouth and let me stick  
this under your tongue." Harry waited a few moments and finally did what he was asked.  
  
While the thermometer made many odd and whirring and buzzing noises, Kern set out to   
set Harry's wrist. "Oh, this isn't so bad. Just a hairline fracture, nothing to worry yourself about.  
It'll heal just fine." He didn't add that he was thinking *when* it heals, which at this point in time,  
no one knew. He pulled his wand out of his robes and set it over the break, and mumbled a few  
words. A white splint appeared, wrapping around Harry's wrist and up over his thumb. He also  
checked the back of Harry's head, and shined bright lights in Harry's eyes, confirming that he had a  
rather serious concussion.   
  
He put another silvery object to Harry's chest, listening to his breathing. He told them  
Harry had a great deal of fluid in his lungs. He confirmed a broken rib and a very small tear in his  
left lung.  
  
Just then, the thermometer made several beeping noises. "Ah, it's finished." He took it out  
of Harry's mouth and examined the results. "My, a temperature of 102 degrees. It seems you have  
the flu, Harry. Not bad, luckily." He spoke to the adults in the room "We can cure it with a simple  
potion."  
  
"But I thought he couldn't be cured until the spell was off." Sirius questioned.  
  
"We can't cure his injuries, but we can cure the illness. That wasn't brought on by the  
spell, and even if he got it from one of his family who was under the curse, it wouldn't matter.  
They cannot force a virus onto someone, it happens naturally."  
  
"Oh, ok."   
  
Kern began another search through his bag, this time nearly sticking his entire head  
through the opening. They heard a few breaks and clatters and something that sounded like a dying  
cat made them all shudder and cover their ears. He finally came up, with a large, empty vial in  
tow.  
  
"It seems I am all out of fever reducer for the moment. I could have sworn I just made a  
new batch the other day." The adults all gave each other looks.   
  
"Does Madame Pomfrey have any fever reducer in her stores?" Sirius asked Arabella.   
  
"No, I looked around when I looked for the pepper-upper potion. That and some skele-  
grow were all that were there. They are the only ones that are non-perishable."   
  
Remus spoke up. "I remember talking to her before I taught here. It was a few weeks  
before term was going to begin. She always gets rid of potions at the end of the school year, then  
she and Snape make them fresh at the beginning of each year."  
  
"Well, I suppose I could go to my office and make some more, but I really don't know  
how long that will take. I don't have any of the ingredients on hand. It's very dangerous for Harry  
to have a fever and a concussion. His lungs are also under a great deal of pressure. If he's sick and  
gets the urge to cough, he might make the tear worse than it already is."  
  
"Well," said Arabella. "Do any of you have any fever reducer just lying around?"  
  
"Left them in my other robes." Said Sirius off-handedly.  
  
Remus didn't answer for a long moment. "I don't have any either. But you know who does  
always just happens to have almost every potion possible lying around?" He asked as if he already  
knew the answer.   
  
Sirius looked up at him sharply. "No . . ."  
  
"There's no other choice, Padfoot."  
  
Sirius clenched his jaw. "I said no."  
  
"Sirius, I understand why you don't want his help. But every once in awhile you have to  
put aside your petty, childish ignorance, and I think that this is the opportune time." Sirius gave  
him a hard glare. "Come on, Padfoot. For Harry. You know, your godson, who is currently very  
ill?"  
  
Arabella watched the exchange like it was a tennis match, becoming more and more  
confused with every word. "Would you two mind telling us who you are talking about, or do we  
have to guess?"  
  
"Our resident potions master . . ." Remus began.  
  
"Our resident slimy git, more like it . . ."  
  
"Severus Snape."  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
Snape had been enjoying a relaxing drink by the fire, doing nothing but dozing and  
occasionally stirring his drink around, listening to the clink of ice on the glass. It wasn't often that  
he got to just sit and do nothing, and soon, a roaring from the fire would prove now not to be one  
of those moments.   
  
He grumbled as he remembered the conversation he had with the floating head of Arabella  
Figg in his fireplace. He jumped so high when she appeared that he spilled his drink all over  
himself, cursing and immediately putting a drying spell on his robes.   
  
She explained the situation to him and he reluctantly agreed, knowing he had to keep up  
his cover and help the boy. But he never had any intention of being nice about it.  
  
He gathered up his fever reducing potion and left for Hogwarts through the fire.  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
  
Snape entered the Hospital Wing with a sour look on his face, his hair hanging in his eyes.  
Remus expected no more and no less from their rival, although he was surprised when he saw the  
potions master look at Harry, who currently had Kern fussing over him. He seemed unfazed by  
seeing his battered student lying in the bed. Almost like he already knew how bad the injuries  
were. Reams was in the room with Arabella when she talked to Snape, and while she explained  
what was going on and why they needed the potion, they hadn't told him how injured Harry was.  
In fact, he seemed to watch Kern more than he watched Harry, squinting his eyes at the kind old  
man.   
  
He recovered after a moment, and saying nothing, held out the potion to Kern, who took it  
and began trying to force it down Harry's throat. Harry was giving it a disgusted look, as if he had  
just had a dead fish forced under his nose. Eventually, though, he drank it all down. Within  
minutes, his skin regained some color, and he seemed to be a bit more alert, although his eyes were  
still dull and sagging.   
  
"I see that I am no longer of use here." Said Snape in an oddly tight voice. "I will be going  
now." Remus and Arabella nodded to him, but no one watched as he left the room, and no one  
noticed his grimace as he gripped his arm, directly over the dark mark, as it burned on his skin.  
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
None of them knew how long they were in the hospital wing. It could have been an hour or  
several, and they wouldn't know.   
  
Arabella was growing increasingly worried about Harry, who's head was drooping.  
  
Remus was worried about Harry and Kern. Harry for the obvious reasons, and Kern, who  
was looking rather peaked himself. Stress did not mix well with that man, who hated to see  
anyone, especially children in pain.  
  
Sirius, seeing that Harry was being looked after, was giving his thoughts over to who had  
cast the curse, and how he was going to catch them. That and how he was going to torture the  
curser until they would want to Avada Kedavra themselves.  
  
Kern decided that Harry was stable enough to sleep. As soon as he told Harry he could  
sleep, his body sank back into the bed, his head pushed into the pillows, and he was asleep within  
seconds. Kern turned to the others.  
  
"We have a very unique young man on our hands. He hasn't complained once. It's  
amazing, the amount of pain he is in and he doesn't even cringe."  
  
Sirius gave a small smile. "That's Harry. He's not really one to complain. I think he  
understands that there is nothing we can do right now, and complaining won't help the situation."  
  
They looked at the sleeping figure on the bed for several long minutes. Finally, Kern began  
gathering his things back into his bag.  
  
"I think Harry is stable, for now. I am going to go back to my office and prepare some  
potions, and make sure we are prepared for when the curse is off. Poor kid has some dreadful  
potions to take when the time comes."  
  
They all in turn shook Kern's hand and thanked him for coming on such short notice. He  
told them not to hesitate to call him again if they had any problems. He left, and Sirius, Remus and  
Arabella were left to watch Harry, and think about how on earth they were going to find the  
person who had cursed Harry's family.   
  
  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
  
  
The red eyes burned into his skin. He shuddered beneath the intense glare, feeling as if  
every part of himself were laid bare to the Dark Lord's scrutiny.   
  
"You have done your work?"  
  
He refused to let his master see his insecurity. He wanted power, and cowering before the  
Dark Lord was not the way to get it. "Yes, my Lord."  
  
"And they trust you?"  
  
"Yes. They trust me. They even had me give him a potion. They trusted me with his  
heath."  
  
"A potion? What kind of potion?"  
  
"Just a fever reducer. A fever is nothing compared to the other injuries the boy has."  
  
"So the curse is working well, I see."  
  
"There was never any doubt it would work, my lord. The magic is strong, and . . ."  
  
"Do not suck up. I detest you ambitious types. I asked you a simple question, and I expect  
a simple answer. You have been in my service a long time now. You should know."  
  
"Yes, My Lord."   
  
"Good. Now tell me. How is the boy doing?"  
  
"He does not look well, my lord. But he has been brought outside help, other than his  
godfather and Dumbledore, and those who we knew would help him."  
  
"Oh, really?"  
  
"Yes, my lord. But there is nothing he can do, either. He has no knowledge of who set the  
curse."  
  
"Good. Now leave. The next time I hear from you, you will be telling me news of  
importance. Nothing trivial. I have enough to worry about."  
  
He bent down and bowed before his master, and kissed the hem of his robes, before  
backing out of the chamber, black robes billowing behind him as he gripped the Dark Mark that  
still burned on his arm.  
  
  
  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~  
  
  
A/N: Whew! That took a lot out of me. Thank you all for being patient and for allowing me to  
believe that anyone was actually anticipating the next chapter of my story. I know it hasn't moved  
very far yet, and that this chapter was not very exciting. It might be long, but you notice not much  
happens. I describe a little too much. Sorry if this chapter has more mistakes than usual. Usually I  
print it out and go over it with my trusty green pen, but my printer is broken. I can only get what I  
catch reading it over on the computer, and for some reason, I catch more mistakes when it's on  
paper than when it's on the screen.  
  
Hey, I created an original charachter (nice old guy, ain't he? Reminds me of a man who I go to  
church with) and I can honestly say he is NOT a Mary-Sue! Hee hee.  
You have heard every excuse in the book from me about why I take so long to update, and here's  
one I haven't used yet: I just didn't feel like writing. I got all writed out. I am currently working on  
a novel outside of ff.net that I hope I can publish someday, and I decided to devote my time to  
that, and I would write for hours and hours on end. One night I started writing at seven pm and  
when I finally stopped it was eight o'clock in the morning. I didn't even notice it getting light out.  
It was crazy. So, I got a little tired of writing and decided I should continue with my life for awhile,  
writing free.  
  
The main reason this chapter is out now is because of Lily of the Valley, a very talented writer  
who is so sweet and nice, inspired me to get writing again. Y'all (hee hee, Lily) have her to thank.  
She really gave me a boost from my slump. Thanks for the millionth time, Lily, and I'm eagerly  
anticipating the next chapter to "Shattered Reality."   
  
To everyone who prayed or sent well wishes to my friend: thank you all so much. All of your well  
wishes really helped. She has just left rehabilitation, and is doing well, although she still has trouble  
walking. She had some brain damage, but it was not as serious as they initially thought. She has  
trouble with memory, mostly. They had to write a sign and put it on her wall that said "You are  
here because you were in a car accident" because she kept forgetting. When she had visitors, she  
would talk and laugh with them, and then an hour later, she wouldn't even remember they were  
ever there. She met with a psychologist, who was the person who told her that the accident was  
her fault and she killed people, and he said everything went right over her head. She will be lucky  
if she can go back to school halfway through our senior year (this coming year) if she even can  
return at all. She is, however, doing 100% better than she was when I first told you about the  
accident, so thank you so much. I cannot express how much your prayers have helped her and me  
during these past few months.  
  
  
ttfn,  
  
~Avidia~ 


	8. Questions and a Surprise

Ok...ok....put down tho pitchforks...no fire! No fire! Don't burn the author! Hey, if you burn me  
now, you'll never get to read the chapter I've been slaving over for...er...three months! ::hiding  
face in shame:: Hey, I tried!  
  
Real author notes are at the bottom.   
  
Disclaimer: blah blah blah blah, don't own blah blah blah blah something about J.K. Rowling blah  
blah blah don't sue me blah blah blah blah sue the authors who have been here longer blah blah  
blah what was I talking about again?  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
  
Normal  
Chapter 8  
  
  
Sirius Black was getting antsy. And when Sirius Black was antsy, you did not want to get  
in his way. The last person who did ended up staring down the business end of a wand.  
  
He needed to do something. Anything. He wanted to go curse the Dursleys into oblivion,  
even though the tiny voice in the back of his head said it wasn't their fault. He wanted to go and  
find Voldemort and rip him apart bare handed. He wanted to find Pettigrew and introduce him to  
his fist. What he did not want to be doing was sitting in a hospital wing that reeked of potions,  
and watch his godson get weaker and weaker, and grow increasingly unaware of what was going  
on around him. And that was all he could do.  
  
Kern was taking an eternity. If Sirius didn't know any better, he would say that the aging  
doctor must have fallen asleep. But he knew potions took time, especially ones intended for  
healing. Wasn't that just the way it would work out? Potions that were needed immediately took  
forever to brew, yet in mere minutes one could have a potion to grow their hair twenty-seven feel  
long.   
  
He had begun pacing days ago. At least that's what his legs told him. He was running on  
pure adrenaline, and his body was beginning to protest. He had already been told that he was  
wearing a hole in the floor by someone. He couldn't be bothered to figure out who. Someone  
tried to push a sleeping potion in his face, and he just scowled. Then a pepper-upper was waved  
under his nose, and he drank it down without a second's thought. So then he was a nervous,  
pacing man with steam pouring out of his ears. A rather bored Remus started making train noises.  
  
Sirius glowered at him, but even he knew it was hard to look intimidating when you  
resembled a muggle cartoon. Remus replied with "All aboard the Black Express. Next stop, St.  
Mungos insanity ward!" Sirius just pulled a menacing face while Arabella snorted into her hand.  
  
Endless pacing...nothing to do...Harry's passed out again...where is Kern? The same  
thoughts flew through Sirius's stressed mind until he couldn't take it anymore.  
  
"That's it! I'm going to the Dursleys! I'm going to ask them some questions!"  
  
"And what would you ask them, Sirius? 'Seen any wizards casting spells on you lately?'  
Just sit down."  
  
"No! I'm going! I'll ask them it they ran into anyone suspicious looking. I'll... I'll tell them  
I'm a please man, and I'm looking for a criminal..."  
  
"You're going to be a POLICE man who just happens to have no uniform, no badge and  
is wearing robes that look exactly like the ones they hate so much? I don't think so."  
  
"I think of something! I just need to go do something! I need to go look for someone, or  
ask questions. I just bloody need to do SOMETHING!"  
  
"Sirius, you can't. You know you can't. If you take one step out of Hogwarts, you're  
going right back to Azkaban, and you know it."  
  
Sirius fell in a heap into a chair next to Remus. "I know. I know. I just... I can't... I can't  
be here. I can't be here while there is someone out there who can make him better. All we need to  
do is find him. That's all and he'll be better."  
  
"Padfoot, it's not that easy. We don't have the slightest idea who could have done it. We  
don't even know where to start looking. We can't bring in every person with a wand and ask  
them to take the curse off."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Sirius..."  
  
"Ok, ok I know, I know."  
  
"Let's just wait for Dumbledore to come back, and then we can get to business."  
  
"When is he coming back?"  
  
"I don't know."   
  
"This is all bull, and you know it! Why can't we go to the Dursleys? Why do we have to  
wait for Dumbledore? He would send us anyway! We could charm some muggle cloths for us,  
and Arabella could stay here and watch Harry!"  
  
"Sirius, we can't."  
  
"Why not? Give me one good reason, and I'll drop the subject right now!"  
  
"I...it's just...we can't."  
  
"Ok, then. It's settled. We're going."  
  
  
  
* * *   
  
  
  
The two walked down Privit Drive. In the daylight it looked just as peaceful as any other  
house. They both had strong flashbacks of the last time they were here, and both were hoping that  
this visit would be much better than the last.  
  
After some strong arguments and even stronger words, Sirius finally talked Remus into  
going. They charmed muggle cloths for themselves, with the help of Arabella, who knew better  
that Sirius and decided he defiantly should not wear a baby blue tuxedo. (He had rather liked the  
ruffles, though.)   
  
They thought out exactly what they were going to say before they flooed to Arabella's,  
and wore nice, but casual cloths that they both found more than a little constricting.  
  
Remus rang the Dursley's doorbell, and they stood, nervously waiting for the door to  
open. When it finally did, they saw a thin, horse-faced blonde woman, who they knew to be  
Harry's aunt. They had trouble believing that she was in any way related to Lily. She gave them a  
questioning look, but did not look at all like the type to hurt anybody.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Hello, ma'am. We are doing a survey for the city. We are putting together a brochure to  
promote tourism, and hopefully encourage people to move to our lovely town." Remus said in a  
slick, professional voice. "We were just wondering if we could ask you a few questions?"  
  
"What king of questions?" She asked, obviously interested.  
  
"Well, we would like to know any places you have been within the last two weeks. We are  
looking for the most popular locations in Little Whinging."  
  
"Well, I went to Nicols, a darling store, to get a present for my son. I do my grocery  
shopping at The Market. Hmm...My husband and I went out for dinner at a nice little resturant  
called Rose Run. We took our son to the doctor. He's a nice fellow. It's the first time we went to  
that doctor, ours was out of town....I went to a friend of mine's house, but I don't think that's a  
very popular place..."  
  
"Is that all?"  
"Yes. It's been a very slow couple of weeks. Not much to do in the summer."  
  
"Ok. Do you and your husband work? If so where?"  
  
"I'm a housewife. My husband is a very important employee at Grunnings. It's a drill  
company. He's almost president!"  
  
"Ok, and one last question. Have you seen or met any strange people around? Anyone  
who maybe scared or alarmed you? If so where?"  
  
"What? Why do you need to know that?"  
  
"Well, we would like to be very thorough, and we don't want to recommend anywhere  
dangerous."  
  
"Oh, ok. Not really, no. No more than your average teenager who just likes to cause  
trouble. It's really very peaceful around here. Oh, except for one time a few years ago. There was  
something about an escaped criminal going around on the news. They didn't tell us where,  
though, so it mightn't have even been anywhere near here."  
  
"Alright, ma'am. Thank you for your time. We really do appreciate it."  
  
"No problem, gentlemen. Have a nice day."  
  
She closed the door as they walked away. They didn't talk until they were a safe distance  
from the house.  
  
"Merlin, Remus. Did you look at her eyes. It's just creepy."  
  
"I know. I had a hard time not looking at them. It's weird how little red circles can give  
you shivers."  
  
"It's not the circles. It's what put them there."  
  
They made their way back to Hogwarts in silence.  
  
  
* * *   
  
They walked back to the hospital wing from Dumbledore's office, itching to get out of the  
muggle cloths and back into the comfort of robes. When they entered the room, they got a shock.  
  
Dumbledore was sitting in the chair Sirius had vacated not half an hour ago.  
  
They didn't know what to say. They were afraid he would be mad, but he gave them a  
kind, knowing smile and beckoned them to sit down next to him.  
  
"Arabella informed me what you did. I understand how you needed to do something.  
Apparently I missed you by only a few minutes. I just thank you for not doing anything rash."  
  
"That's only because I had Moony with me." Said Sirius. "If he wasn't there, believe me, I  
would have done something rash."  
  
"Ah, then. Thank you, Remus." Remus gave him a smile. "Now I'm sure you have some  
things to tell me, but first, there's something I need to tell you. Actually, it's you in particular,  
Sirius."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"Yes, you. You know I met with Minister Fudge today, and we had quite a discussion,  
and some rather unexpected, but very welcome events."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Sirius, you're free."  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
  
  
A/N: Haha.   
  
Ok, I promise the next chapter won't take as long as this one did. ::looks in 'Giant book of  
excuses':: I just got major writers block. I had no idea how to write this chapter, or even what  
was going to happen. I didn't even know until I got on the computer and just started typing. It  
just grew from there, and I have ideas for the next couple of chapters. I decided that I better do it  
now, or I'd probably not do it at all. I don't want to be one of those people who abandon their  
fics for no good reasons.   
  
In addition to all that, I just started my senior year of high school. I'm loving it (especially  
English. We're learning all about Anglo-Saxons and Beowulf. I absolutely love that time period.  
Also, I'm of Anglo-Saxon decent, so that makes it even better, that I'm learning how my  
ancestors lived). Hence I have almost no free time. I dance three days a week, plus I got a part in  
the senior class play, so I have even less free time. And when the Speech and Debate season starts  
(I'm a proud duo-er, three years and goin' strong) I won't even have my Saturdays. Also, I'm the  
duo squad leader, so I need to spend two days a week after school with my squadlings. No time  
for myself at all.  
  
Sorry this chapter is so short. As I said, I had no idea what to do. Also, sorry for the typo's.  
Normally, I print the chapter out and go through it. (It's easier for me to catch things on paper  
than on a computer screen) My printer is still broken (going on 4 months now.)   
  
Thanks to everyone who was concerned about my friend. She is doing much better, and  
recovering faster that expected. She was able to come to school, but she's in a wheel chair. I  
believe it was everyone who wished her well (on the net and off) that helped her get better, so  
thanks from the bottom of my heart.  
  
One more thing, if you like poetry, go check out some of mine. I promise they won't bite.   
  
~Avidia~ 


End file.
